Best Vacation Ever, or Worst?
by SheyRicci
Summary: Sam decides to take Dean away for some rest and relaxation, but when in their lives, has anything ever gone as planned?
1. Chapter 1

Sam Winchester was…..happy. For the first time in a long time, years actually, he walked with a spring to his step, shoulders squared, head held high. His immediate world didn't consist of much; he didn't own much of anything, not a car, not a place to call home. He didn't have a regular job, no steady income, and no bank account, nothing set aside for whatever future he may have, and he earned money where he could, when he needed it.

He lifted his face to the sunshine, smiling up at the cloudless blue sky, arms spread wide and he turned in a circle, reveling in the pure joy of being alive, of being free from his dark, shadowed past. He had nothing more important to do then walk down main street of the small hick town in the mountains of Montana where he and his brother had decided to hole-up and find a store that sold ice cream and get his brother a milk shake.

He'd decided to walk. It didn't matter it was cold; he enjoyed the walk simply because he could. He didn't need to arm himself with holy water or salt or a handgun loaded with silver bullets or a sawed-off shot-gun loaded with rounds of rock salt. No special knives or unique guns hidden in his coat, no need to chant in Latin at every person who passed by him that he deemed suspicious. The time would come again when he would have to face the life he and his brother led but until then, he was determined to get enjoyment out of being in the here and now.

He and his brother were on a vacation of sorts. Dean was recovering from a condition that led to an illness that had all but taken him down and out. A life of stress, concern and worry along with too much aspirin combined to often with a bad diet accompanied with an unhealthy quantity of alcohol had given him a stomach ulcer that could require surgery. The doctors were treating it with medication and diet, but there were no guarantees that surgery would be avoided.

Knowing Dean, he would persist on being stubborn and develop complications so Sam was doing all that he could to avoid Dean perforating the ulcer. One of Sam's obstacles was keeping any and all forms of alcohol out of Dean's hands. Doing so meant Sam was denied the adult pacifier that soothed both emotional and mental wounds as well but it was a sacrifice he was more than happy to make. Sam's bigger problem was convincing his brother that he had to give up caffeine which meant he had to give up coffee, that battle had been harder to win then the demand he give up alcohol.

Who'd'a'thunk?

Hence, a month or so in the quietest, least populated town Sam could find. He was not the least bit upset to be side-lined for a few weeks and he'd been both relieved and surprised when Dean had agreed without much of a fuss. Gave him time to catch up on what had all happened in the world while he'd…been gone. He had books he wanted to read, magazines and newspapers to scour, memories and stories he wanted to write down, a new computer to set up and make his own along with a new phone that was all but its own mini-computer.

Usually, he argued about spending that kind of money, but Dean had offered and Sam hadn't been able to bring himself to refuse. Yeah, there was still a need to put others, innocent victims and the defenseless ahead of himself and before his brother but no longer to the extent he had in the past. He'd made sacrifices, his childhood, his upbringing, his brother's happiness, his brother's life, his own life, but no more. Nothing and no one was ever again going to use him to destroy the world, wasn't going to happen because he wasn't going to let it. He and Dean would catch up between one another and there was no better place to do it then ice-fishing together in the middle of an isolated lake. Didn't matter neither were particularly fond of lake trout, Dean was supposed to avoid spicy foods, the blander the better, and who didn't think fish was the blandest non-meat ever?

His cell rang with the tune that identified without looking at caller id, who the caller was, Sam rolled his eyes, kicking at pebbles on the sidewalk. Dean wanted to whine otherwise he would have sent a text.

"Yeah Dean?" he crossed the street. "Don't want orange anymore?"

"How about a caramel cappuccino? Sounds good, don't it?"

"Yeah, it does and nice try, you ain't having one."

"Ok, forget the caramel, how about a mocha one?"

"How about, of all things I need to remember, the definition of cappuccino ain't one of them? Orange or cookies-n-cream?" he was at the chain restaurant, standing outside on the sidewalk, reading the menu in the window. "Mint chocolate chip? You like that."

"Cookies-n-cream Frappuccino sounds great, make it a large!"

"All right wise guy, vanilla milkshake it is." he opened the door to go in. "This ain't no Starbucks, you ain't getting no cappuccino or a frappuccino or a fribble or any other coffee flavored shake."

"Why not? Dude, you hate me or something? Malt, can I at least have malt?"

"Because Dean, those drinks are made with coffee. So, vanilla?"

"You're not supposed to think of that." he mumbled. "Mint chocolate chip, I guess."

The doctor had given them dietary guidelines to follow, advising them it wasn't set in stone, was just a guide. Best thing to do was try what he wanted to eat and learn what to stay away from and Sam was always taking things away from him. Dean didn't think, never paid attention, and that was his whole problem. They'd stop for gas and enter the mini-mart and out of habit, he reached for slim-jims or salami sticks or beef jerky and Sam who was always two steps behind him, had to snatch from his hand whatever ill-advised spicy snack he picked up and replace it with crackers. Whole milk was a no-no, but ice cream was currently Dean's favorite food.

"Anything else?" Sam held the door for a woman to exit the store with two toddlers. "Dean?"

"No, did you walk?"

"Obviously you see the car, so…yeah…you feeling any better?"

"Guess…ok, commercial over….see ya soon."

They were staying in a rent-by-the-week motel, room complete with a kitchenette that included a fridge, microwave, toaster, useless coffee pot and small, but complete gas-fed stove. There was even a dvd player and Sam had visited the local library to supply him with a variety of movies to keep him occupied when he didn't feel like getting out of bed.

Kinda like now. Dean sprawled on his bed with all the pillows the room possessed piled behind him. He'd give Sam's back when the kid went to bed but in the meantime, a semi-upright position was the most comfortable one he could find. He wasn't thrilled being side-lined with a painful condition that dictated what he ate, how he ate and when he ate, and though he'd never admit it, he was quite happy having been forced into some down time.

He wanted to take some time and enjoy life with his brother in it. Over the last six, almost seven years of his life, the relationship between him and his brother had been twisted, tested, beaten and nearly broken. During that time they had both had to live without the other, mistakes had been made, sacrifices had been demanded, and retribution had been paid. Now today, all these years later, trust was re-established, past betrayals were forgiven, lies and omissions had been put to rest and despite the best intentions of both heaven and hell, the bond between them remained unbreakable.

He thought about getting up and going over to the kitchen and popping a bagel in the toaster, considered heating some soup, decided dinner would consist of whatever flavored milkshake Sam returned with. He meant to remain awake and watch TV but he drifted off. The medication he was on for the ulcer tended to make him sleepy and he saw no need to fight it. He was comfy in bed and had no reason to stay awake. It was hard to fight the medicine's pull anyway so why bother.

He and his brother were hidden from all, not even Bobby knew where they were. Their cells were new, the numbers were recently changed, he hadn't even brought his beloved, but easily recognizable car, leaving her at Bobby's in favor of a car no one could trace to them. His last conversation with Bobby had upset him, left him emotionally battered and he'd jumped at Sam's offer to go away, not telling Sam he was crawling away to lick his wounds. The argument certainly hadn't done him any favors, only incited his ulcer to riot which caused Sam, who was unaware of the issue with Bobby, to turn all nurturing and brotherly.

***000***

"Dean, dammit boy, don't you walk away from me!" Bobby thundered, wanting to reach out, grab the younger man by the shoulders and shake him until his teeth clattered. "Dean, you can't do this."

"I can, I will….you of all people should understand Bobby! I just got him back and nothing, no one, not even you is going to convince me to give him up."

"No one is asking you to give your brother up Dean." Bobby growled, clenching a fist.

"Not this time." Dean agreed. "But it will come to that, one of us will be expected to do something to save the world and the payment will be the other of us. My answer is no, not again, let someone else be the hero."

"And Eve?"

"She ain't my problem. For once, what's happened isn't our fault. We didn't start it; we don't need to end it."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing." Bobby paced around his desk. "You seriously telling me you don't care about what's coming? You aren't going to do anything about it?"

"I didn't say that. I said not now."

"Then when Dean? You chose to return to hunting, no one made you so don't cry about it now. You're the one that gave up that life you always wanted. Weren't you at least a little happy? I thought you were, you didn't have to go back to hunting, so why did you?"

"And what? Leave Sam where he was? Ignore it?"

"You knew where he was the day he went there, why is now any different? You didn't choose to go back with Sam when he first came back."

"First came back? Don't you dare go there Bobby, not you of all people, _don't you dare_!"

"Was giving up everything you ever wanted worth it? Worth getting your brother back?"

"Yes! Yes Bobby, it was! You of all people should know that! I wanted a life that included my brother. Any time I ever dreamed about a house or having some kind of family, he always lived next door or across the street, never further than around the corner. I always pictured the woman in my life accepting Sam. I never once pictured a life where I would ever have to choose."

"That ain't the life you were given Dean. Yeah, it sucks, but….."

"Not another word." Dean held one finger up, mortified to find it shaking. He was close to losing control of his emotions and it was a place he didn't want to go. He couldn't believe Bobby was pushing him on this. He understood damn well the next threat to the world was looming and looking over his shoulder but he just couldn't bring himself to care. The last six months had kicked his ass and he was so emotionally battered and torn, not to mention physically beaten that he couldn't take anything more.

Not even Bobby trying to make him see reason.

"What do you want from me Bobby? Huh? First you berate me for going after Sam and leaving Lisa and Ben and then you yell at me for not caring about the fate of the world, _again! _You knew he was back for a year and you didn't bother to tell me, made the decision for me that my life was better off without him…"

"Now, that is just not true, I made the decision your life was better off not hunting…"

"It wasn't your decision to make Bobby, I thought I could have both, I tried it, didn't work out."

"Might have, had Sam been Sam."

"Yeah, well, that was the problem, wasn't it?" he raked his fingers down his face. "Not again, never again. We didn't do this and we don't feel responsible to have to fix it. I gave him up once, and it hurt Bobby, _it hurt_, and it's killing me that you expect me to do it again and I can't…..I won't do it again, you have no right to ask that of me."

"No one is asking you to give your brother up Dean, he made the choice and you let him do it. But this time ain't like that, all I'm saying is, if you're both back in the hunt then we have work to do."

"It's too soon."

"Too soon for what?"

"To risk losing him again. I'm not going to let him do something stupid because he feels guilty over something he did during that year. I can't handle that Bobby, _I can't_! Why would you want me to? I lost him to a demon, to an addiction, to lies and deceit, to guilt and remorse….._I can't do this_. I just….just can't."

Bobby was stunned to hear Dean admit to such vulnerability. The man usually shouldered his guilt and insecurities and plowed straight ahead, taking on whatever was thrown in his path, but not now, he wasn't bouncing back this time. "Dean, you can't just…..walk away…."

"Watch me."

Sam came in the back door, tossing his keys to the kitchen table as he heard the raised voices coming from the room Bobby called his library. He'd been at the town library, reading up on the condition Dean had been diagnosed with and had headed home trying to come up with a way he could convince his brother to see things his way. His way being some time off, just the two of them, taking things easy until Dean was feeling better.

Oh sure, he could continue to lead his life as he had been, would need to make some necessary adjustments in his diet, his sleeping habits and adjust to the medication, but he didn't have to deviate from his daily routine. But Sam wanted him to, wanted to be selfish and have his brother all to himself at least for a little while and to him, this was the perfect excuse to get his way. He doubted Dean would see things that way. Sam didn't want to resort to manipulation and guilt but if it came to that, well, he was pretty sure he had what it took to get what he wanted from his brother.

"Hey guys….." he strolled into the room to find Dean clutching at his stomach. He staggered two steps towards Sam before falling at his feet. Sam just looked down at his brother then gave Bobby an annoyed look. Obviously whatever they had argued about had caused yet another flare up. "So, how's that nap coming along?" he gave Dean a hand up. "Something going on between you two I should know about?"

"No." Dean bit out. Unable to stand upright, he made his way over to a chair and sat down, doubling over.

"Yeah, sure." Sam pushed his hair back. "So, just got back from the library, did some reading, doesn't look like you're feeling any better Dean."

"Minor…set…back…"

"Uh-huh, so, thought maybe…." he frowned when Dean didn't immediately shake off the effects of his 'minor setback'. He went down on his haunches until he was eye level with Dean. "You ok?" he didn't push, but concern laced his soft tone. He was tired of seeing his brother in pain and struggling to hide it from him. Tired of watching him fight through it, tired that he was in pain at all. "Dean?" one word. That one word spoken with affection was all it took to crumble what little composure Dean had. He extended his arm, one finger up to signal he needed a moment. Sam knocked his arm aside and laid a palm on his brother's shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. "Ok, you know what, that's it, I've had enough." Sam stood up. "Bobby, do you have a car we can borrow?"

"Borrow? For what?"

"We?" Dean's head came up. "I - we - have a car Sam."

"We can't take your car this time Dean, with our luck, for the first time in our lives, someone will recognize it. Bobby, if you don't, just give me a ride to town and I'll rent one."

"Why do you need a car? Where you going?"

"Away." Sam's look dared him to argue. "I'm taking him and we're going away."

"To where?"

"Away Bobby, just away."

***000***

And here he was, in some town Sam had chosen at random but with some thought behind it, trying to stay awake in what was for them, a decent motel room until his brother was safely in the room with him. Dean blinked but sleep was determined to have its way and the last thing he remembered was wondering if he could coerce his brother into coffee flavored cookies. Those Italian pralines weren't made with actual coffee, were they? Just flavored with it, right?

"Hi." the girl behind the counter smiled a greeting at him. "Sam, isn't it? What can I get you?"

"Um, we've met?"

"Sure, small town." she grinned. "Everyone eats at Momma's place. Dean's hit on every waitress there. My roommate is Robin."

"Aah, right…so….you would be…..?"

"Natalie, so what will it be?"

"Large mint chocolate chip milkshake."

"So, where's your brother? Is he feeling better?"

"Um, I left him at the motel, he's still pretty tired."

"You sure that was wise?"

"Oh yeah."

"Robin said he's been sick and you came here so he could get some rest." she chattered on and Sam fell into an easy conversation with her. "So, why didn't you bring him with you?"

"Cause he's tired and when he's tired, he's cranky and I just didn't feel up to dealing with him whining. I wanted to enjoy the day and walk here and he would have complained all the way."

"So, you left him alone? Gee Sam, selfish much?" Sam raised an eyebrow. She had the grace to blush but laughed it off. "Hey, small town, remember? Every female, single and married in town has had an eye on the two of you."

"He usually doesn't like to let me outta his sight but sometimes I just need to get away from him, you know? Give him a couple of days, the medication he's on is keeping him pretty quiet, it's why I was able to leave him without him kicking up a fuss. Trust me, once he's adjusted to it, he'll be ready to come out and play."

"Mmm. Maybe we can make it a double date."

"You sure you want me to bring him along?" Sam joked. "I had to drug him to get him to be compliant."

"Well, someone has to watch him, right?"

"And feed him, he's getting this milkshake for dinner, you can make that with low-fat milk, right? How much chocolate do you think is in mint chocolate chip ice cream? Just the chips, right?"

Sam and Natalie continued their teasing conversation, paying no mind to the other people in line. One minute, Sam was standing in line, waiting for his order to be filled and the next, a woman was in his face and two police officers were wrestling his hands behind his back and slamming him against a wall.

"That one right there!" she announced, waggling a finger right in Sam's face. His instinct was to slap it away but his arms were restrained and when he attempted to shrug free, the hold tightened painfully. "How dare you! How dare you leave a two-year old child alone in a motel while you come out and arrange a date! What kind of father are you? You should be ashamed, ashamed I say! Some people don't deserve to be a parent! Of all the nerve!"

"What?" Sam sputtered, stunned. "Ma'am…."

"To leave a child all alone because you didn't want to deal with him whining? To drug him so you could leave him? How could you? All children complain, it's what kids do. You don't deserve to be anywhere near that boy. You selfish, sick man! You're a monster!"

Of all things anyone could say to him that would garner a reaction that was it. Sam's peaceful, fun demeanor fled and his lip curled into a snarl, giving the interfering woman such a look of hate that she actually stepped back. Natalie came around the counter, bewildered that everything was spiraling out of control.

"Officer, there's a misunderstanding." she began. "I have no idea what she's talking about, she must have Sam confused with someone else."

"Oh, I am mostly certainly not confused. I stood right here in line and heard your entire conversation! A hit with all the waitresses at Momma's, left at the motel because he was tired and cranky and _you_ wanted to arrange a date! You _drugged_ him to avoid having to deal with the poor boy throwing a fit over being left alone! You needed some time away from him! Giving him a milk shake for dinner! You make me ill!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam recovered his lost wits. "I didn't drug anyone!"

"Your two-year old son. Dean, I believe his name is."

"My son? Lady, what the hell…?" Sam desperately tried to regroup. "What? Wait, who's two?"

"There's been a mistake…" Natalie tried again.

"There's only one motel in town." the woman continued. "The fire department has been dispatched to find that poor boy and take him to the hospital."

"The..fire dep….." Sam jerked. "Are you out of your freaking mind?" he shook his head, finally catching up. "Dean is not my son, he's my brother and he is not two years old, he's 32.….."

"Months?" she scoffed. "24 months or 32 months, son or brother, it doesn't matter, a child that young…"

"Years." Sam sneered. For the love of god, how did he find himself in these situations? All he did was take a walk to get ice cream. A simple, normal activity millions of people did every day without being arrested and accused of child neglect. Over a child that didn't even exist! "My brother is 32 years old, he's not a child and he's been sick, he's on medication prescribed by his doctor, I didn't drug him."

"We'll just straighten this all out down at the station." one officer said.

"You will not get him back." the woman snapped. "He's better off with social services than with the likes of you."

Sam shrugged. "No one will be taking him anywhere because when the authorities burst into that motel room, they are going to find a 32-year-old man who won't be any too happy over being disturbed. By the way, I didn't get your name. Since you seem so interested in my business, I'd like to know who you are so when this is over and it's proven I didn't do anything wrong, I know where to find you."

The two police officers exchanged a look. That wasn't' exactly a threat, but it sounded ominous.

"Let's go buddy."

***000***

Dean was in the bathroom when he heard sirens outside in the parking lot. He didn't pay them much attention, wasn't unusual to hear such sounds in a motel. However, he didn't expect them to be right outside his room and went over to look out the window.

A fire truck, two ambulances, several police cars, both county and state, a news van and several unmarked vehicles that Dean would swear were FBI swarmed the parking lot. Huh, something big must be going down. Maybe a robbery or a warrant was being served…no….that wouldn't require medics or the fire department. Well, then perhaps it was a domestic dispute…..or someone was lost or lost a kid in the woods behind the motel, cause, yeah, that was certainly a helicopter he heard.

Watching from the window, Dean observed the police entering the motel office and come out with the employee on duty who pointed down the sidewalk towards his own room. Odd, he didn't remember anyone checking in next to their room. He didn't smell or see smoke and no fire alarm had gone off so he doubted there was a fire anywhere. So, back to robbery then? Hold up? Hostages?

Least he knew Sam was safe, he'd gone to town and was nowhere near the motel. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all leaving the Impala at Bobby's. Boy, didn't take much to get these small town folks in an uproar, better go find out what was going on. He looked down at his bare feet; best to dress first. He dropped the curtain and returned to the bathroom. Banging, not knocking on the door scared him shitless. No one was knocking, no, they were pounding with what sounded like an axe. He heard keys rattle in the lock and cursed. He had no weapons of any kind with him. He and Sam had come empty-handed, deciding for once not to always expect the worst.

"Son? Don't be scared! We aren't here to hurt you, you can come out." the door burst open and bounced off the wall, and several men barged in. Three police officers led the way with two paramedics on their heels. "Dean? It's ok, everything is going to be ok."

"Thought the kid was drugged." "Look under the bed." "Check the bathroom." "Probably scared to death."

Dean heard the voices shout out to one another but didn't process any of what they were saying. All he heard was his name and knew they were looking for him. What the fuck?

"Dean, we need you to come out now. No one is going to hurt you."

"Jack, I don't see any evidence of a child being in this room. No crib, no high chair, not even a toy, what kind of sick bastard treats a kid like this?"

"This outta be enough to keep him locked up til he gets a trial date, no judge is gonna give him bail, not in this county."

Dean pulled a shirt on and zipped his jeans. Kid? Crib? Drugs? Trial? Bail? What the hell was going on?

"Dean! I need you to come out, I need to see you, need to know where you are."

"Ok, ok, ok." Dean held his hands up in surrender. Better to go out and play stupid then be found cowering in the bathroom like he had something to hide. "You got me."

"Who the hell are you?"

"You looking for me?" he didn't know whether to be amused or angry. By the look of shock on the faces of the men who were crowding into his room, they hadn't encountered the situation they'd been expecting. "Can I help you all with something?"

"You aren't two."

"Two what?"

"Years old. Where's the child?"

"What child? There's no child here, just me." Dean remained where he was, the state police officer looked calm and in control of his emotions, the two local cops had drawn on him and looked ready to shoot first and look for missing child later. "I don't have a child…..so you got the wrong room." did these people think he had kidnapped a child?

"Your father….."

"My father?" Dean motioned to the guns still aimed at his head. "Think maybe you could, you know, get those outta my face?"

"Mind if we have a look around?" the state police officer asked calmly.

"Go ahead." Dean nodded, sending out a prayer of thanks that Sam had insisted no weapons on vacation. He didn't want to entertain the thought what would happen if those kinds of guns were found in their motel room. "Can I ask why you think there's a kid in here?

"Your father…..the child's father drugged his son and left him alone in their motel room. Kid's two years old."

"Huh, soooo, this dad…tall guy? Brown shaggy hair? Brown denim jacket?"

"Yup, know him?"

"Yeah." he sighed. "I do. Look, there's no kid here. I'm Dean, and I'm not two years old. I don't know what's going on or why you think I'm a kid but obviously, he's not my dad and I'm not two."

"So, the man we have in custody is…"

"My brother if you're talking about Sam." he felt the first stirring of unease. Sam being arrested wasn't a good thing. They hadn't counted on interacting with the police and hadn't taken steps to ensure their stories matched. "Police custody? What did he do?"

"Drugged you and left you alone in a motel room. It's illegal to leave a two-year old child alone and unattended." the state police officer explained. He'd been the only one to do any talking.

Dean couldn't help it, he tried, but the shit eating grin stole across his face. "Oh Sammy!" he burst out laughing. Best vacation ever! "Do I gotta go bail him out or you gonna release him?"

"In the morning, once this is all straightened out."

The smile vanished, the laughter abruptly ended and all traces of humor and amusement were wiped from his face. Dean's willingness to be cooperative evaporated. Sam was in jail and it was only 3 o'clock in the afternoon, there was no way in hell Dean was going to allow his brother to spend the night in jail. Not in this town. Not with the locals they'd seen walking the streets and in the bars, nuh-huh, not happening.

"There is nothing to straighten out. Tear this motel apart, go door to door, we've been here for over a week and no one has ever seen either of us with a kid. You won't find evidence or a witness that says differently so whoever you got your information from is full of shit. I'm in no mood to be dicked around, you will release him now, not tomorrow, or you won't like what'll happen, you hearing me? You got nothing to hold him on."

Dean strolled into the police station with a swagger, sucking his thumb and hugging a teddy bear. Sam sat in a chair next to a desk, one wrist cuffed to the chair's arm. A teddy bear? Seriously? Where the hell had he found a freaking teddy bear? He found this funny? Make him choke on that damn thumb.

"Pa!" Dean cooed. "How could you? Why'd you do it Pa? Go and leave me all alone?"

"Cut it out." Sam didn't move, head back against a filing cabinet, eyes closed.

"I's scared Daddy!"

"Knock it off."

Dean tossed the bear and slapped Sam on his knee. "Ice cream dude, all you had to do was walk to the store and buy me a milk shake. What the hell happened?"

"Met a girl." Sam kept all emotion from his face. He was relieved to see Dean, but not because he was afraid of spending the night in jail. No, seeing his brother walk into the station on his own without a police escort meant he had kept his temper when confronted at the motel. All Sam had to do was get him something to eat so he could take his meds. A simple act, retrieve a milkshake and even that hadn't gone right. Nothing was going right, Dean should be feeling better by now, not worse. Worst Vacation Ever!

"Aah, using the baby brother pick up line, huh? Okay, fine, but next time try including a babysitter in the story, you think?" Dean perched one hip on the corner of the desk next to the chair to which Sam was anchored. "So, you don't think they'll try to bill us for the rescue attempt of poor little ole me, do ya?"

"Shut up." he rattled the chain on his wrist. "You here cause they're letting me go?"

"Yeah, no charges were filed. You ok?" Dean asked quietly, lowering his voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "No overzealous prick I need to take out for police brutality?"

"No."

"No cell mate named Bubba?"

Sam allowed his mouth to quirk. "Been parked here in this chair since they brought me in."

Dean nodded, satisfied. "K then, let's get you outta here."

***000***

Sam went to the diner the following morning for breakfast. Robin waved him to her table and sat down across from him with a coffee pot.

"All alone today?" she paused with the pot and he nodded, grateful that he could enjoy as much coffee as he wanted without feeling guilty. He hadn't been drinking any in front of Dean because it was the right thing to do. Dean wouldn't have extended him the same courtesy, but hey, it was one less thing he had to listen to Dean whine about.

"Yeah, he's sleeping in, not feeling too great." Sam reached for the sugar. Dean hadn't had a good night. Neither of them had brought up the reason, but both knew it was due to the panic Dean had felt over the thought of Sam having to spend the night in jail.

"Heard about yesterday." she looked around to make sure she wasn't neglecting any of her other tables.

"Everyone has." he stirred milk into his coffee. "Natalie, huh?"

"Yeah, kinda funny, don't ya think?" she grinned. "Most excitement this town has had in years. Everyone's been talking about nothing else all morning."

"Not really." but he gave her a grin. "All the things that have happened in my life, all the things I've seen, all the things I know about, just when I don't think there's anything left that can surprise me, waa-lah, along comes Dean. Who else can be mistaken for a two-year old neglected kid?"

"Careful, never know who might be eavesdropping and picking up every other word and coming to their own conclusions." she got up. "Got other tables, what can I get you?"

"Pancakes, side of bacon, thanks." he sipped his coffee, inhaling the wonderful scent. "Oh, cup of fruit to go, it's mostly melons right? With seedless grapes? And…" he skimmed the menu. "Plain bagel, cream cheese on the side and you might as well leave me the pot."

"So, he gets fed this morning."

"Try it anyway."

"Huh, well, if he feels better, let me know, he has my number. Maybe the four of us can go bowling and catch a movie."

"Aaah, sure, sounds like fun, can go to dinner."

"Well, here in town, this is about it, but the nearest town is…."

"Great Falls, yeah, I know." Sam gave a shy smile at her look. "His doctor recommended being near a hospital. I decided I could live with one being thirty minutes away."

"If you don't mind me asking, just how sick is he?"

"Not sick, not really, he's still adjusting to a diet and the medication, don't worry, he's not contagious." Sam glanced around the small diner. It really was a nice cozy atmosphere and everyone they'd met here so far had been friendly. He hadn't seen the woman from the ice cream store in here at all, thank god. "How about Tuesday? Long as he feels up to it, we'll drive over to Great Falls and catch a movie and have dinner."

"Sounds good, I work days and Natalie can switch her hours around should she be working that night, give me a call."


	2. Chapter 2

"Can't believe the damn car." Sam slammed the door on Bobby's loaner and punched the hood for satisfaction. "This town have cabs?"

"Thought you were a mechanic, can't you fix it?" Robin asked as the girls prepared to depart from the motel.

"Dean's the mechanic." Sam ran a hand through his hair, kicking the tire in frustration. "Dammit."

"Here, take my car." Natalie offered, dangling her keys. "I have to go to work, Robin can drop me off."

"Sure." Robin agreed.

Sam didn't want to impose on the girls and borrow their car and inconvenience them for the day. He had other options, like calling a cab. Oh, what the hell, what could it hurt? He really should get his brother to the hospital. He hadn't been feeling good at all, staying in bed all day with a stomach ache and by late afternoon, running a slight fever and keeping only Sprite down.

"If you don't mind… I mean, if you're sure… aww shit…the loan of your car would be great Nat." he took the keys. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

The girls wished him luck, said good-bye to Dean and left, Robin driving Natalie to work. Sam tweeted the alarm on Natalie's Honda and went over to the car with the intent to pull it closer to the door of the motel room.

"Oh, you're not serious." he sat staring at the steering wheel in disbelief. He let his head fall to rest on the steering wheel, feeling like crying. There was nothing about this so-called vacation that was turning out right. Nothing at all.

Dean wasn't supposed to get sicker, Sam wasn't supposed to be arrested, the towns people weren't supposed to take an interest in them, attention wasn't supposed to have been drawn to them. The car wasn't supposed to stop running. Bringing a car other than Dean's wasn't supposed to have been a mistake.

"Un-freaking-believable." worst vacation ever.

Dean stirred when Sam came into the room, the blast of cold air from the opening door making him pull the blankets tight. He was curled up in bed, loathe to obey Sam's order to get up and get dressed, so he hadn't. True, he didn't feel good but in no way did he feel bad enough a trip to the hospital should be in his immediate future. Sam and Natalie had spent the day out together doing who-knew-what-where and Robin had spent the day with Dean at the motel room watching movies. All had been fine until Sam had returned to find Dean feeling no better.

"You!" Sam yelled, startling Dean into jerking awake and coming upright in bed. "Of all the useless things you taught me in my messed up childhood, like shooting a mouse in the head or killing a squirrel by throwing a knife, did it never once occur to you to teach me how to drive a manual shift car? Taught me to change the oil and change a tire and even change the brakes, but not to _drive_ a car that has a clutch. Thanks Dean, thanks a lot, thanks for nothing."

Dean blinked, still heavy-headed with sleep and muddled by medication, he wasn't able to follow Sam's rant. Something about a rodent running loose in the car and no gun to shoot it with. Wow, was Sam ever tense these days, getting all bent out of shape over a stupid mouse? His fault anyway, he'd been the one who insisted of leaving the Impala at Bobby's. What'd he expect? Has he not _seen_ the salvage yard, he's lucky it wasn't a rat! And really, no mouse had better set up a nest _in his _car while she was in Bobby's garage.

"What the hell are you yammering about?" he yawned sleepily, carefully lying back against the pillows he'd piled against the headboard. "Stop yelling, we'll get it out."

"The car won't start so Natalie let me borrow hers only I can't drive it." Sam was standing at the foot of his bed and yelling. Arms spread wide, hair blown six ways to Sunday and yelling! When had he become such a girl over some stupid mouse? "I can't drive my brother to the freaking hospital because the only available car in this stupid town is a stick!"

"Annnnddd…. somehow that's my fault?" he was more awake now and catching up. Apparently the loaner car from Bobby refused to start so Sam borrowed Natalie's only to realize it had a manual transmission. Huh, he never taught Sam how to drive a stick? Seriously? That didn't sound right, he must have, right?

"Well, yeah, yes it is! 'Cause you're the one who taught me to read and count and tie my shoes and when I got older you taught me how to strip and clean and load a weapon and shoot and you taught me everything I needed to know about girls and how to hustle pool and win in darts and when I was seven, you taught me how to lie and run a con and pull a scam but for the LOVE OF GOD DEAN What the HELL happened to driver's education!?"

Dean could do nothing but stare at Sam and take in how agitated he was. He couldn't blink, or pull his jaw up to close his mouth or force any words out of his throat. Sam was this upset over the fact he couldn't drive some girls car? What the….

"Let me guess, go ahead, say it, I dare you, admit you can drive a stick." Sam ranted.

"Well, of course….." he stopped. He'd seen that look in his brother's eyes before but never directed at him. Always directed at who or whatever was threatening Sam's brother with immediate injury. "Um, no big deal here Sam, I can… drive…where do you want to go?"

"Of course _you_ can." he spat. "The hospital Dean, remember? We were going to the hospital."

"I told you I didn't need to go." Dean rolled his eyes but that only incited Sam to kick at the bed so hard his pillows fell to the floor. "Hey! What the hell? Dude, what_ is_ your problem?"

"You are not driving yourself to the hospital Dean." Sam ranted. "If you feel so fine, get your ass outta bed and go fix the damn car."

If that's how Sam wanted to be, fine. Couldn't be anything seriously wrong with the car anyway, probably a loose distributor cap or spark plug or dead battery. Dean sat up and swung his legs to the floor. How did he manage to get blessed with such a sensitive brother? Who wudda thought he could get so upset over something so silly as the transmission of a borrowed car!

He didn't need to go to the hospital anyway. Sure, he hadn't been feeling good, the medication more often than not made him sick, and yeah ok, other than plain bread or bagels and English muffins, food didn't seem to agree with him but the doctor had said eating would be an issue for nearly a month. God forbid he ever get seriously sick or injured, 'cause how the hell would Sam handle it? Ok, that wasn't fair, Sam had been solid and supportive every time Dean was hospitalized but he was so much more emotional these days.

He pulled his boots on and stood up. He glanced at the clock on the table between the beds. Going on fou o'clock, great, even if by some chance he managed to talk Sam out of dragging him to the hospital, he'd have to deal with Sam wanting him to eat and he pretty much knew he wouldn't be keeping down any dinner this day and then he'd be right back where he was now.

"Dean?" he turned at the sound of Sam's voice tinged with annoyance and his coat smacked him in the face. Now what was Sam pissed about? He couldn't still be mad over never learning to drive a stick, could he? He didn't immediately pull the coat from his head, he didn't want Sam to see the smirk he couldn't wipe off his face. "Not going outside without a coat."

"Aah, Sam, not two here, remember?" the grin was in his voice. "Think we even proved that."

"You know Dean, I've had it with you and your attitude. I'll follow you around every store we enter and take away every stupid thing you pick up to eat. I'll go out and buy foods you can eat that won't cause you pain and I'll cook whatever you want, when you want it. I'll even give up coffee and alcohol while you can't have it but I'm not gonna be so understanding you get sick cause….."

"I can smell it." Dean interrupted. "On your breath."

"Smell what?"

"Coffee."

Sam's head bobbed around as he struggled for control of his temper. "Fine, I haven't had any coffee **in front **of you. I'm willing to be patient and understanding over your current condition cause I know I'm mostly what caused it but I'll be damned if I put up with you getting pneumonia so either put your coat on or I'll put your ass back in that bed."

"Thought you were taking my ass to the hospital?" he realized he'd pushed Sam just too far when his brother lunged for him. Dean scrambled over his bed on his hands and knees to reach the door before Sam could grab him. "Ok, ok, I'm putting my coat on, see?" he headed out the door, closing it behind him.

He didn't expect Sam to follow, he'd take the time to pout in the motel room and hopefully get over his little snit. Honestly, everything put Sam into a snit these days. Dean was perfectly capable of looking after himself. He knew how to read and if he wanted to, would know what foods he shouldn't eat, but why should he bother? He had Sam and Sam was happiest when he had something new to read, something new to learn and if it made Sam feel better to scold and fuss over a stupid package of beef jerky, Dean was happy to oblige. At least Sam was there to be a pain in the ass.

He popped the hood on the car, damn it was cold out. He hadn't gone out much, mostly to breakfast, for a walk or two and once on a date with Sam and the girls to a nearby town to catch a movie where he hadn't been allowed any popcorn. The 'really Dean, are you serious silent' question from Sam complete with the Dean-you-are-stupid look had shot him down while he'd been reading the prices. He'd been denied cheese and nachos with salsa next, had ended up with the kiddie tray of soft pretzel nubs and a Sprite. What's wrong with popcorn? Kernels, says Sam. What's wrong with nachos? Spicy salsa, says Sam.

He glanced over at the Honda, the root of Sam's current fit. He's the one all so gung-ho about leading a normal life; had left his family to achieve it. Didn't knowing how to drive a manual transmission fall under the category of normal? Apparently not or someone in Sam's life during his years at school would have had a car with a stick he could have learned to drive. Certainly Dean would have taught him had he stuck around or had he ever asked,

Dean chuckled as he looked over the uncooperative car, searching for whatever ailed it. Sammy had his panties in a bunch over something he could easily do if he set his mind to it. Sam could get behind the wheel of any vehicle and drive it; he didn't need to be taught. He was just over-reacting because he didn't want to admit he was worried. Dean would happily tell him so too because Sam picked the stupidest shit to get all bent out of shape over. This was the Best Vacation Ever!

"Come on Sammy." Dean opened the motel room door and popped his head around the frame. "Need to go to the auto parts store. Motel manager says there's one ten minutes up the road, just need a belt."

"We walking?"

"Nope. You're driving, you wanna learn to drive a stick, fine, let's go." he hesitated. "We'll stop and eat if you want." peace-offering, placate the kid and his night would be a lot quieter. Didn't matter he wasn't hungry and the thought of food made him nauseous. Maybe sitting down at a table in a diner and ordering some mashed potatoes and bread would ease the gnawing burn in his belly. That is, if Sam would let him have anything with butter.

"You're hungry?" skepticism was all over Sam's face and in his voice. Dean rolled his eyes.

"I can eat."

"No burgers."

"Deal. Now come on."

Sam didn't move. Dean sighed and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"What?" Dean demanded. What could be the kid's problem now? "What now?"

"Dunno." Sam set his phone aside. "What? Distract Sam and he'll forget? Not gonna happen Dean."

"Sam, I'm fine."

"What have you eaten today?"

"What does it matter? I'm gonna have days when I'm not hungry or can't eat."

"Yeah, a day, not a week."

"We've been here what, seven days? I haven't dropped of malnutrition yet."

"Yeah Dean, and how many of those have you spent feeling good?"

"We didn't come here to party hearty Sam."

"You rupture that ulcer, you perforate your stomach lining….Dean, trust me, you don't wanna do that."

"I'm not going to, will you chill? I heard the doctor as clearly as you did, it will heal with treatment, I won't need surgery."

"You will if….."

"Enough! I promised you I would let you know if any more symptoms showed up, 'til then, leave me alone."

"Any symptom? Like bleeding….."

"Sam." Dean warned, cutting him off. "I will tell you, now let's go."

"You're not driving." Sam stated flatly.

"Nope." Dean tossed him the keys to the Honda. "You are, and let's get going, auto store closes at six."

Dean managed to refrain from teasing Sam on the drive to the auto store. Sam supposed he should have concentrated on driving but his attention was on keeping his mouth shut about Dean's haggard appearance and his continued silence. For Christ Sake, after spending the day in bed he should be well rested but it was obvious he wasn't and Sam wasn't sure he could keep quiet much longer. He expected his brother to full of smart-mouthed wisecracks about his driving and to have him so quiet made him wonder what Dean was hiding from him.

Sam was relieved to find the auto store was a hangout for the town's men; he didn't want to run into any trouble like what had happened at the ice cream store. The required belt would need to be ordered. Would take two days to come in, that is, providing the impending storm didn't dump a multitude of snow on them and close the roads, preventing the delivery truck from getting through. Dean paid cash for the belt, storm or no, they weren't going anywhere until they repaired the car. No matter, they hadn't intended on leaving so soon anyway.

"For the love of….." Sam snatched a bag of hickory flavored peanuts from Dean's hand. Dean had no sooner picked the package up when it was swiped and replaced with a pre-packaged rice crispy treat.

"Dude, really?"

"Peanuts Dean? Will you just for once think?" he slapped Dean's hand away from the box of dried sausage chips, his reward for thinking of Dean's comfort a look of boyish hurt. "Knock it off."

"What's wrong with those? Not spicy, no seeds, no kernels, no nuts."

"Sausage Dean? No dried meats, not beef, not sausage, not pepperoni."

"Anything else boys?"

"No." Sam said, collaring Dean by the back of his jacket and dragging him towards the door. "You'll give us a call when that comes in, right?"

"Sure thing, should be mid-morning….." the clerk stopped talking as Sam smacked Dean's fingers then pried a Hershey bar from his hand. "Day after tomorrow."

"No." he put the candy bar back. "Uh, thanks…Out the door. Now." he gave Dean a shove. "Move."

"Good God Sam, it's a stupid candy bar…."

"It's chocolate and you can't have it. I swear….you'd try the patience….." he pushed the door open but before he could push Dean through it, two men entered. "You still wanna eat?"

"Bringing you some news Curt." the man nodded his thanks to Sam for holding the door open as he entered. "Hi ya boys, weather ain't looking promising at all, they're saying feet, up to two."

"We ain't got anywhere to be." Dean said easily. "Even if the car was running."

"What about the commute to Great Falls? Would we be able to make it or would we be snowed in here?" Sam asked.

"You them two boys staying at the motel? Heard about yous, one of yous is sickened, right?" the second man chewed on an unlit cigar. 8th grade education, tops. "Been in town over a week now, ain't that about right?"

"Oh, for Christ Sake!" Dean scowled. "I'm not sick!"

"Nervous breakdown, wasn't it?"

"What? NO! Sam, I swear, if you're behind this….."

"Whoa, back up dude, so not me." Sam held his hands up. "Small town, remember?"

"I'm not sick, I didn't have a mental or nervous breakdown, I'm not two years old….."

"Depends on the storm. Name's Lenny." he held his hand out to Sam. "This here is my neighbor, we all call him Stubby. We just get snow, we'll be ok, plows can easily clear the roads, problem might be higher up in the mountains, any rain or ice can make the snow too heavy and then we risk an avalanche. That happens, we're here for a week or better until they get earth movers in here to dig the road out."

"Uh, earth movers?" Dean repeated, attention temporarily diverted from Stubby.

"Yeah, oh, guess out East they call 'em backhoes." Lenny said. "Either way, we're safe here. Town has its own electric substation, and natural gas line, so we're good."

"Dig the road out? Isn't that the only road in and out-of-town?" Sam asked. "Who digs us out?"

"Only paved one, can get out by snowmobile, there's all kinds of trails through these woods. Any local can find his way out." Lenny explained. "State will get to us, usually within a week's time."

"Sa-ammmm." Dean knew that look, knew Sam was busy thinking, planning. "We're good here."

"I think we should leave." Sam said. "Drive into Great Falls and get a motel."

"In what car? You borrowed Natalie's for the day, she expects it back." Dean didn't want to ride any further in a car that Sam couldn't drive smoothly than their motel. Ten minute walk, less than two in the car. Every jerky start caused his stomach to float and slosh about as though it wasn't attached and anchored into place. It didn't make him nauseous, it hurt, it caused pain and he was too tired to hide it for a forty minute drive. Sure, it was mostly highway to the next town, but with his luck, they'd hit traffic and he'd be completely screwed. "Let's wait and catch the weather tomorrow, if they're still calling for the storm of the century to hit, we'll take a cab to Great Falls, ok? Gimme a night."

"Yeah, right Dean, you were supposed to be at the hospital by now, I…"

"Yeah, yeah…." Dean blew him off. "Let's go."

"Fine." Sam bit out. "But we're stopping for dinner and you're going to eat something." He threatened. He was mad at himself for selecting a town that they could be snowed-in, in, mad for not pushing the hospital earlier, mad for caving to Dean's wants – again.

"Can I have mashed potatoes?"

"Sure, maybe some chicken to go with it?" Sam didn't want to push, Dean was looking pale and tired and Sam felt a twinge of guilt for making him get up and go out to fix the car. It could have waited until morning. "We can just go back to the motel if you want. I'll get take out."

"Naw, I'm good." he avoided Sam's look. He knew his brother was trying to catch his eyes so he walked around the car and opened the passenger door. "Hop to it, let's see if you do any better driving back then you did getting us here."

Dean didn't have to tell Sam how he felt; Sam could easily read the signs. Dean had grown quiet, didn't turn the radio on in the car, didn't flirt with the waitress at the diner and let Sam order for him. Sam kept his tongue until they had finished eating and Dean refused dessert.

"You can have pie you know. They have chocolate or banana cream." he reached for the check when Dean shook his head. "So, guess you're not feeling so good."

"Just tired." he rubbed his temples with his fingertips in a circular motion. "Headache, you ready?" he wanted to lie down and be stationary. He was tired, his eyes dry and gritty and his head ached from the constant strain of stifling yawns and keeping his eyes open.

"Yeah, I'll drop you off then take Natalie's car back and walk back to the motel."

"Kinda cold out." Dean stood up, holding to the back of the chair for a moment. "Maybe she or Robin can drive you back." it was also dark and Dean still had issues with Sam being out after dark and away from him in a strange town.

"Sure." Sam didn't think it was worth arguing over. "You ok?" his brother didn't look ok at all but least he was no longer pale, greener now. "Dean….."

"Yeah, I'm good." or he would be as soon as he could lie down.

The motel wasn't far from the diner, but it might as well been a ride on a rollercoaster with a 420 foot drop straight down. He fought it, he truly did, tried to breathe through it, tried to hold his breath, tried to swallow it down, tried to hold his stomach with both hands in a futile attempt to keep the rising bile at bay. He didn't need to tell Sam to pull over, aware that Sam was paying more attention to him than driving. The car came to an abrupt stop, jerking forward with such a violent motion it stalled dead. Dean slid sideways in the seat and Sam leaned over from the driver's seat to open his door.

That was it!

Sam sat behind the wheel of the Honda and fumed. His worry over his brother escalated into anger. He knew better than to be talked out of what he wanted to do but it always happened. He should have told Dean he was taking him to the auto store and driven straight to the hospital. He should have lied to Dean's face by agreeing to go to dinner and return to the motel to await further weather reports than once in the car, drive to the hospital. Would he never learn? Dean always got his way, no matter if it was something he wanted from Sam or Sam to do or if it was what Dean didn't want to do. Once he got his ass back in the car, Sam was turning around and heading directly to the hospital. Wait, back in the car? When had he gotten out? Sam punched the steering wheel, cursing as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.

"Dean?" he stood in the open doorway of the car door but faced the car, squinting across the roof to try to see where Dean had gone. "Dean!" his voice rose. "DEAN!" now he was shouting. "DE….."

"Right here Sammy." he came up the small hill. "What?"

"Why did you get out of the car?" Sam demanded, still not in control of his anger. "It's dark Dean! There are no street lights….what if _that _had been more than just a ditch?"

"Wudda been a guard rail."

"Stop it." his voice had gone husky with emotion, mostly fear he guessed. "I so don't need to deal with the vision of you falling down a cliff or off a river bank. We don't know these woods Dean."

"I get that Sam, I do, but….kinda had a need for privacy, you know?"

"That's bullshit. I've seen you.…." Sam went silent. "If the next words out of your mouth are you puked blood, I will knock you the hell out Dean, try me, I dare you. You wanna play Mr. Macho and deny the pain you're in, fine, you're the only dealing with it, not me, but so help me, if you're bleeding, you're going to the hospital and you don't have to be conscious for me to get you there."

"Sam, not this again, I'm too tired. I promised you I wouldn't hide any signs of bleeding from you and I won't. There was no blood, can we go now?" he held to the open car door. He wasn't getting in until Sam agreed to return to the motel and let him go to bed. "Please? I'd like to lie down."

Sam warred with himself. Once in the car, he could drive to the hospital and there would be nothing Dean could do about it. If he wasn't vomiting blood, there was really no reason he had to see a doctor. Yeah, there'd been a slight fever earlier that morning and he hadn't felt good all day, but he'd felt better later in the afternoon, mornings were the worst. Dean didn't want to ride in a car to the hospital where they would spend the night in the waiting room, waiting to be seen, he wanted to go back to the motel and go to bed and Sam knew that.

"Fine. Get in the car."

Sam dropped Dean off at the motel and drove over to Natalie's to return the car. He sat in the car and watched his brother enter the room then drove away. Natalie invited Sam to stay and while tempted, it was early, not even eight o'clock. She sensed his hesitation and attempted to coax him to stay with her but didn't push when he remained indecisive.

"We can hang out here an hour or so, we'll drive by the motel on our way to Moe's, see how he's doing." Moe's was a local hangout and while the idea of spending a couple of hours drinking beer in an atmosphere where he was comfortable was appealing, guilt was the stronger emotion and the need to make sure Dean was ok, the stronger desire.

"I can't Nat, maybe tomorrow." he said finally. "Sorry." he'd made his mind up, and there was no changing it. "He didn't have a good day." he still wasn't convinced Dean hadn't vomited blood outside the car. He knew Dean had gone off alone because he had thought there was a possibility he might and that was enough to make Sam uneasy. "Thanks for the loan of the car, we didn't end up going, but filled the tank up for you anyway. Catch you around."

"Sure, hey you change your mind, come on over, we'll be there." Natalie smiled. "You want a ride back?"

"Naw, it's not far, I….aahh…so thanks."

***000***

A soft knocking on the door caused Sam to jump. He'd sent Bobby an email earlier asking him to contact the doctor who was treating Dean for the ulcer and ask whether the prescribed medication could in any way cause a fever. Bobby had responded back with the information that the doctor would call in a new prescription, the name of which would cause Sam more hours on the computer doing research.

Neither of them was going to be on medication he didn't thoroughly understand. He wanted to know what the drug was, what it treated, and what the side effects were, He needed to find the nearest pharmacy where the doctor could call the prescription in.

A second knock came and he glanced over at Dean. He'd been asleep when Sam had returned from taking Natalie's car back and hadn't stirred in response to either knock. Odd, Sam hadn't thought he was sleeping soundly enough not to be disturbed by a noise that was always unwelcome. He should feel comforted by the thought Dean trusted him enough to sleep through a visitor but he didn't.

"Yeah?" he stood off to one side behind the door which, lacking a peep-hole, he kept closed.

"Just me." a cheery voice sang out. "Name's Nan, brought you boys some clean towels."

"Now? It's after nine don't you clean the rooms in the morning?"

"That's right, we do, unless the guest places a call to the front desk with a request. Hey, do you mind? It's cold out here."

Sam thought about just having her leave the towels on the doorstep but admitted that was just silly and opened the door. "Thank you." Sam said politely, automatically taking the towels she thrust into his arms. "Sorry, I didn't know my brother called."

"Oh, that's alright, would you like me to take the old ones? Save the girl working tomorrow a trip, I don't mind at all." she walked around the bed. "You know he's cold, right?" Nan commented, waving a hand towards Dean who stirred when she stopped at the foot of his bed. "The heat not working in here?" she went over to the thermostat and adjusted the gauge. "There, that's better, so, you heard about the storm coming, right?"

"Um, yeah, well…what? No…I mean, not lately, any change in the forecast?"

"Nope, big one coming."

"Does this town have cabs? Our car is down, we ordered the part needed to fix it but it'll be a couple of days and I want to get to Great Falls before the storm."

"Just take yourself over to the auto store, someone will give you a lift." she went into the bathroom, coming out with discarded towels tucked under one arm. "So, are you going to do anything about it?"

"Huh?" distracted, Sam was thinking about whether he should try to get to Great Falls and how to make Dean go with him. "Sorry, am I gonna do what?" he set the towels on the table next to his laptop.

"Your brother." she said patiently, pointing to the bed. "The way he's all curled up and tense? He's cold. I'll bring you another blanket."

Sam shook his head in an attempt to clear it, he had to stop obsessing over the weather. "He's ok." what the heck was she talking about? Dean already had the blanket and the comforter.

"Still doesn't mean he's not cold. He'll wake up stiff and tired and don't feed me the line about a fever, if he gets to warm, he will instinctively search for ways to cool off. He'll kick the blankets off or dig his feet, give the man another blanket."

Sam pulled his jaw closed with a snap of his teeth. She was scolding him? Seriously? And how the hell did she know Dean was running a fever? All anyone could see of him was his ear….Sam frowned, Dean didn't normally sleep on his side, he usually sprawled out on his belly, or if he was sick, his back, but…..his side? Only when he was hurt and being held down so an injury could be tended….

"No wonder, the poor boy is sick, do you never clean up after yourselves?" she interrupted his mental ranting.

"We do, just not every day." Sam objected lamely. "We change the sheets."

"I'll take these towels and come right back with another blanket. Might want to get him into a shower, lukewarm, not hot, and, oh, let's just say some Tylenol might benefit him." she tsked-tsked as she moved towards the door, snagging the bag of trash in her free hand as she moved past the table. "So, it bleeding yet?" she waited for Sam to get a clue and open the door for her.

"Is what bleeding?" Sam asked stupidly. He wasn't used to anyone just barging in and taking control, maybe Bobby, but not some grandmother who made him feel as if he'd just been scolded for improperly taking care of his brother, who was NOT two-years old, god dammit.

"His ulcer." she toed the door. "Saw the meds, trust me, if it ain't yet, it soon will be."

"Hoping not. Last thing either of us need is him having surgery."

"Bleeding doesn't mean perforated. Let me go get that blanket, think you could get the door?"

"Oh, sorry, oh hey, is there a pharmacy in town?"

"Ten miles outside of town there's the exit for the highway, just opened a Walgreens. It's considered Great Falls, but it's the closest one to here."

"Thanks." he rubbed his eyes, giving Bobby the address of the drugstore would all but tell him where they were. Didn't matter, nothing about this vacation had gone to plan anyway.

When she returned with the blanket, Sam refused to let her back into the room. Dean was fine; he didn't need a shower, or another blanket or Tylenol. He conveniently ignored the fact a fever is what prompted him to want to take Dean to the hospital earlier that afternoon. He thanked her and shut the door, locking it behind her. He stood with his back to the door, blanket held in his hands and stared at the bed, waiting for Dean to roll over and ask who he'd been talking to but his brother didn't move.

"Shit." he scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. He didn't need this now. Maybe he should have gone out with Natalie for a few beers. "Dean? Hey, you awake?" he shook the blanket out; he had it, might as well use it. Dean had crawled into bed once they'd returned to the motel and he hadn't bothered to do more than remove his jeans and shirt which meant he was only wearing a t-shirt, little warmth there and he _never _slept on his side. Sam would know, he'd shared a room with the man nearly his entire life.

Dean sensed Sam standing around the bed, knew the maid had been in and had talked to Sam about something other than towels, but had no idea about what and he really didn't care. Yeah, he'd called for clean towels, the smell of the damp ones made him nauseous.

Surely, the comfort of clean towels surely wasn't too much to ask for, was it? What the bloody hell did Sam want now? Chew him out for wanting a towel that didn't smell like unwashed socks?! He'd done enough for Sam today, had entertained Robin while Sam was out with Natalie, had gone outside to look at the car, had gone to the store and had eaten a meal he hadn't wanted; a meal that told him to avoid all others for the time being. He was done, he wasn't moving or talking, Sam needed to just go away and leave him alone.

Sam tossed the blanket over the comforter, deciding it best to let Dean sleep until he woke up on his own. He went to take a shower and when he came out of the bathroom thirty minutes later to find Dean sprawled on his belly hugging the pillow, he still refused to admit some nosy maid had been right.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke up around midnight, feeling hot, sticky and far from comfortable. He eased over to his back, stretching carefully, the desk lamp was on but the room was quiet and Dean assumed Sam had gone out with Natalie. He didn't mind, it wasn't like he needed someone to talk to, he wasn't hungry, didn't need anything, wasn't going anywhere, but still, it'd be nice not to always wake up alone. He decided he'd feel better if he took a shower and washed off the smell of dried sweat so with the aid of the light that had been left on, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom without paying any attention to the rest of the room.

Sam heard the shower and rolled out of bed. Great, leave it to Dean to want a shower after freaking midnight. Couldn't he wait another few hours and shower at dawn like a normal person? It wasn't that the dumb ass had to shower in the middle of the night that pissed Sam off, no, it was because the dumb ass was doing everything Nan had suggested. Fine, he wanted to pull this shit and pretend he'd been asleep when Nan had been in the room, lukewarm shower it would be.

Dean didn't hear the door open, didn't hear the footsteps cross the bathroom floor, didn't notice the shower curtain being pushed to the side, he wasn't aware of anything until a large, hairy arm thrust its way past his hip and the water went cold.

"AARRggHH!" Dean yelped, jumping away from the stream of water as he blindly swung at the intruding arm with a closed fist. The arm resisted and recoiled, not expecting to be struck then hit him in the side, causing him to slip in the soapy water and fall against the wall, smacking his elbow hard. His second strike at the arm had whoever it was attached to yelping back at him and Dean was thrown completely off-balance, fighting with the curtain.

Sam cried out a second time when his own shampoo bottle slammed down on his wrist for the third hard hit in the same spot. Before he could pull his arm from the shower, his thumb was grasped, his wrist twisted and his hand forced backwards into a position no human hand was ever meant to go. He broke free with brute strength, the resistance against his hand gone so suddenly, he stumbled backwards and while he managed to keep his feet, the thud from behind the shower curtain told him Dean hadn't.

"WHAT THE HELL YOU ATTACKING ME FOR!?" Sam shouted angrily, cradling his injured hand to his chest. "JESUS DEAN, WHAT THE HELL'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!"

"ATTACKING _YOU_? HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSE TO KNOW ATTACKING _ME_ IN THE SHOWER?!" Dean shouted back. "WHAT THE HELL ARE _YOU_ DOING?" he turned the water turned off and gained his feet, one hand supporting his weight against the wall as he fought to bring his breathing under control and coax his heart to return to its normal rhythm.

Upon recognition of the familiar, if unexpected voice, his panic fled, leaving only disbelief and anger. Once he was sure his heart wasn't going to pound its way right out of his chest, he reached around the curtain and groped for a towel. "What the hell are you even doing here? Jesus Christ Sam, a man's shower is personal."

"Don't pull that shit with me." Sam was still angry and now he was in pain, damn but Dean could hit hard with his fist. He'd been on the receiving end of his brother's punches plenty of times in the past, usually in anger or distress but never had Dean ever struck out at him with the intent to injure. "You decide to take a shower, now?"

"What's wrong with that? I don't need your permission to shower, do I?"

"Now Dean? At midnight?"

"I….I don't remember when I last showered Sam. Christ, what's the matter with you?" all he could do was stand there and stare at his brother, struck too stupid to even properly dry off. "Why, why would you sneak into the bathroom and turn the hot water off? What would make you do that? What did I do to deserve a cold shower?"

"It wasn't a cold shower, and I didn't sneak, you heard Nan, you were awake the entire time, so fine, you wanna play, I'm in."

"Who the hell is Nan? What are you talking about?" Dean wrapped the towel around his waist and used another to dry his hair. "And what the hell are you even doing here? Thought you went out?" he picked up a comb, peering into the mirror to view Sam who was standing behind him. "Have you been drinking?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Cause you're behaving like an ass."

"Good Dean, real good, thanks." he ran a hand through his hair. "Where did you think I was anyway?"

Dean tossed the comb and turned around to face his brother. "You took Natalie's car back, didn't you? Thought you wudda hooked up, went out, you know, enjoy yourself a little."

"I've been here all night Dean, what made you think I'd go out and leave you here alone after you lost your dinner in a ditch on the side of the road?"

"Oh god, not this again." he sighed, he moved to push past Sam but Sam was a wall and didn't move. "You didn't have to stay in."

"A ditch Dean, you crawled out of a freaking ditch."

"Not like I haven't crawled out of worse."

"Don't" Sam looked away, blinking, he couldn't believe Dean would go there. "Don't do that."

Dean just stared at him, best to let that go. Sam was still touchy over how Dean had returned from hell. He got all teary-eyed and subdued when any reference to it was brought up. "You still think I lied to you, don't you?"

Sam shrugged. "Did you?"

"No." he pushed past Sam to search for clean clothes. "Where were you when I got up?"

"In bed." Sam followed. "Why are you limping?"

"Why are you hugging your hand?"

"Cause you hit me three times!"

"Well!" Dean exclaimed defensively. "Not like I expected anyone to join me in the shower. Hell I didn't even know you were in the room, I thought you'd gone out so I had no freaking clue it was you!"

"Who the hell else would it be?"

"How am I supposed to know? You're on vacation Sam, go out, get drunk, get laid!"

"Is that what you want me to do Dean? Leave you here alone? Even if you weren't sick, I thought we came here to spend some time together, to catch up on what happened while I was gone."

"You kick that wall again and I will kick your ass." Dean warned stalking back to the bathroom to get dressed. "And dammit, I am not sick!"

"Not about what I did, you know what I mean." Sam said in exasperation. "Did you hurt anything when you fell in the shower? By the way, I emailed Bobby, I didn't tell him where we were, but I had to give him a pharmacy nearby so the doctor could call in a new prescription."

"For what?"

"A fever Dean, and you're not keeping much of anything down, you shouldn't be throwing up so much, that can cause complications and….."

"Ok, ok, ok, I got it, fine, go pick it up tomorrow. Good god, but you can fret!" he closed the door in Sam's face.

"I'm gonna walk over to the office and get some ice, need anything?" Sam called through the door.

"Sure, get me a coke, your wrist ok?"

"Yeah, just sore, so? You fall on your ass?"

"Aahh, no, knee, it's fine."

Sam thought about getting dressed to go get the ice but he could see the office from their door and while the clothes he was wearing were considered clothes a person wore to bed, they were acceptable for a midnight dash to the ice machine. He pulled on his boots, grabbed the ice bucket, five bucks from Dean's wallet and left the room.

Dean heard the door close behind Sam and blew his breath out, taking a seat on the side of the tub. He'd promised not to hide signs of internal bleeding; he'd never said he wouldn't keep any other injury to himself.

"Aww, shit." he gingerly bent his right knee, trying to flex the joint but stopping when pain flared. "Great, just great, way to go Dean, scare yourself, fall in the shower and be too big a baby to tell your brother you hurt yourself." he twisted about, trying to see his elbow. "Shit."

Sam complained to himself about brothers and their stupid tendencies to hide shit and play games as he walked to the ice machine. His wrist hurt, really hurt, hurt badly enough he was thinking about wrapping it in an ace bandage and going to bed with a towel of ice.

The air was cold and heavy, a sign that snow was imminent. Sam hoped it held off until he could get to the drugstore in the morning. No one was out, he didn't hear a car or even a dog bark, it was eerily quiet, would have been a great night to sit outside and watch the clouds accumulate and wait for the snow to start. He would have lingered to do so, had he worn a coat.

"Shit." he bit his lip when his wrist protested the slight pressure needed to depress the lever on the ice machine. He switched hands, able to hold the bucket with his aching wrist until the ice made it too heavy. "Get me a coke." he muttered, feeding the vending machine the five dollar bill. He was selecting a second bottle of ginger ale for himself when a loud, piercing siren split the silence, causing him to jump.

A town siren, one to notify its residents of impending disaster, fire, flood….he stepped back to glance up at the mountains in the distance….avalanche. He slid the bottles of pop into his pants pockets and picked up the ice bucket, thinking about stopping into the office and asking the desk clerk if he had any idea what was going on but he heard his name being called so he headed back to their room. .

"Hey." Dean closed the door behind him. "Town siren?"

"Yeah, didn't hear anything else though, you'd think we wudda heard something if there'd been an avalanche." he couldn't shake his unease but Dean didn't seem bothered by the unknown. He was holding the bottle of ginger ale and directing his trademark scowl at Sam with unmasked irritation.

"What?" Sam kicked his boots off.

"I asked for a coke!"

Sam retrieved a towel from the bathroom and tied it into a knot around some ice. "Be lucky I got you a soda at all, it was the only caffeine free soda the machine had. Don't want it, don't drink it, there's plenty of water."

"Want me to look at your hand?"

"In the morning, go to sleep." Sam crawled into bed, leaving the desk light on. "You wanna go out for breakfast? I wanna go to the drugstore and get the prescription."

"No, just bring me back a bagel."

Sam hadn't expected Dean to want to go and he was ok with that. He wanted to talk to the pharmacist and then he intended to find out what the siren was all about.

***000***

When Sam got up the following morning, it was going on eight o'clock. He hadn't slept well after the shower episode and he doubted Dean had so he wasn't surprised Dean slept on. He waited for Dean to wake up on his own but he only stirred to refuse the offer of meds and water. Sam debated whether to force them on him, deciding to wait until he returned with the requested bagel.

By the time Sam dressed, checked his emails, responded to one from Bobby and found enough cash to pay for the prescription, it was after 9:30 and Dean still slept. Huh, Sam didn't much care for that but decided to let it go. He didn't plan on being gone longer than an hour and Dean had damn well better be awake when he returned.

Giving their car an evil look and a 'make-me-feel-better' kick, he walked to the diner where Robin loaned him her car to drive to the drugstore. Armed with the largest size to go coffee he could get, directions and a wary eye on the unfriendly sky, he pulled onto the highway in Robin's automatic car.

The pharmacist was friendly and took the time to talk with Sam and answer all his questions and even offered some advice. Sam still planned on returning to the motel and researching the new prescription on-line but the pharmacist was very informative. From the drugstore, he headed back to town, stopping at the auto store to ferret out information on the siren. He'd asked Robin and both the clerk and pharmacist at the drugstore but hadn't been able to gain any insight.

"Well, hey there Sam. It is Sam, isn't it?" Lenny greeted, standing at the counter talking to Curt, Stubby nowhere to be found. "Snow's coming."

"It's here." Sam nodded. "Not too bad yet."

"Part isn't in yet, just ordered it yesterday." Curt said. "You decide to leave? You plan on going, outta get going. Storms can turn real bad real quick here in this mountain pocket."

"Yeah, well, Dean doesn't much feel like riding in the car, so hey, any idea what the siren was about last night?"

"Huh, heard that did ya?" Lenny shrugged. "Dunno, guessin' the Sheriff wanted all his deputies to report in. didn't hear nothing on the scanner, that's what me and Curt here were just discussing. Thought maybe an avalanche might be coming with all this snow."

"So, the town will blow that whistle so all authorities will report in?" Sam questioned. "To be prepared for a storm?"

"Yup, usually when there's a lost kid, or stranded hikers or a missing hunter, but ain't heard any o' that's happened this time." Lenny motioned towards the door. "Guess they think this storms gonna be a blizzard."

"So, you'd say there's a good chance we might get snowed in here?"

"Yup."

Sam gave it some thought as he drove back to town. He did not want to be snowed in. Dean could deny it all he wanted, the bottom line was, he was sick and under a doctor's care and Sam intended to be able to reach a hospital should he decide his brother needed one. He'd return Robin's car to her and ask her or Natalie, whoever was available first, to drive him and Dean to Great Falls.

"Sure, Sam, not a problem." Robin agreed warmly. "I get off at two, Natalie goes in at four, might be better to go now, the snow can get pretty heavy really fast here….give her a call…" next thing she knew, she was sprawled against Sam's chest, knocked off her feet by a huge explosion that rocked the entire diner, knocking plates and dishes and just about everything not nailed down to the floor. Sam's instincts kicked in, he shoved Robin to the floor, falling on top of her to shield her from flying glass as one of the diner's front windows blew out. A second explosion had him rolling under the nearest table, Robin protected in his arms.

"Avalanche!" someone cried out as a thundering crash echoed through-out the town, causing the ground to shake.

Avalanche, my ass, Sam thought as he got to his feet, pulling Robin up with him. Oh sure, an avalanche had definitely happened, but that was after someone had ignited dynamite and blown up half the freaking mountain to cause it. Question was, why had someone deliberately caused the avalanche and what were they trying to cover up by distracting the town's people with it? Sam had a pretty good idea the Sheriff would know why, and would know who. That siren had sounded last night for a reason and Sam doubted it was for a lost skier.

"You ok?" he asked Robin as he took in the destruction of the diner with an experienced eye. Once she nodded, he left her to go over to the broken window and peer outside. Sure enough, the snow still sped down the mountain side, crashing into and sweeping along whatever was in its way, effectively burying entire buildings on the outer edges of town.

Cursing, he ran both hands thru his hair, holding it back out of his face atop his head. The road out-of-town, the only road, was completely blocked; there was no immediate way out.

"Sam." Robin stood beside him. "Oh my god." she breathed. "Dean?"

Sam went outside to stand on the sidewalk and get his bearings, trying to figure out which was closer, the police station or the motel. Not that it mattered, because he had to know Dean was ok, Sam would be going to the motel, he didn't intend to remain separated from his brother any longer than necessary. The motel was across town, nearly at the foot of the mountain and closer to the avalanche then where he was. He dug his cell out, fingers finding the prescription he'd picked up earlier. He swallowed hard, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind as he checked his phone for the signal he prayed he'd find but knew he wouldn't.

He walked down the street in a daze. A cloud of snow dust was settling, revealing nothing but snow and debris for as far as he could see. Was the motel one of the buildings buried in snow? Had Dean heard the explosion? Had he had time to get out, and if he had, where had he gone? He'd be on foot and Sam knew his brother didn't have the clothes needed for this kind of weather. Forcing thoughts of doom and gloom out of his mind by assuring himself Dean knew how to survive, he returned to the diner and tried the land line phone only to find the lines were down.

Electricity was out, the diner's generator had kicked on and the cook and busboy were busy nailing wood over the broken window. People were functioning efficiently in the face of what they thought was a natural disaster but Sam knew better, knew an explosion of dynamite when he heard it. He stood for a moment, contemplating what to do next, judging how far across town he'd be able to drive before he'd have to set out of foot; he wasn't dressed for a hike in the snow.

All Dean knew was Sam had left to go pick up a prescription, he would have no way of knowing where Sam was. Logic would tell him to wait at the motel and give Sam time to return if he was capable of doing do. That meant Sam had to get to the motel within the next hour or Dean would set out to try to find him.

Either way, one of them would be out in the weather and despite Dean's denials that he wasn't sick, he was. Sam had no intention of letting his brother risk his health by being wet and cold due to his misguided need to find him. He still had Robin's car keys and turned to ask her if he could borrow her car again when he was grabbed from behind. His hands were wrestled into a hold along his lower back; a hand tangled itself into his hair and bounced his forehead off the counter with enough force, his knees buckled. Stunned and seeing double, he was hauled upright as he heard the familiar click of handcuffs encircling his wrists.

"Sam Wesson." a voice confident in its authority spoke calmly from behind him. "We would like a work with you."

He was hauled away from the counter. Not allowed a moment to shake off the cobwebs caused by the meet and greet with the counter, he stumbled, held up by rough hands holding his arms with a bruising grip. Sam tensed; his hands fisted and remained clenched until pain forced him to relax his grip. The cuffs were tight and his wrist, which was already sore and aching, protested the position the cuffs held his hands in. He ground his teeth in frustration and pain. The police couldn't possibly believe he'd had anything to do with this, could they? He turned around and came face to face with the same two officers who had arrested him for the ice cream store fiasco.

"What do you think I've done this time?" even though the words out before he could stop them, he somehow managed to keep his voice cordial despite the fact he was seething.

"Huh, let's think about that wise guy." a baton poked him in the belly, not hard enough to cause pain, but hard enough his body's automatic response was to double forward. "Someone blew up the mountain and caused an avalanche."

"And you think it was me?" he exclaimed incredulously, straightening up. "You can't be serious! I didn't have anything to do with that!" if these guys thought he had a smart mouth, what the hell would they think of Dean? Thank God his brother wasn't there; he wouldn't take kindly to being manhandled into handcuffs.

"That is the wrong answer. Folks think it's an avalanche, but you don't seem surprised that I said someone blew the mountain to cause it. I'm guessing that's because you know the sound of an explosion caused by dynamite. Not just anyone would know that."

"That doesn't mean I had anything to do with it."

"You also claim to have come to town to do some ice fishing yet no one has seen you anywhere near the lake, nor was any fishing equipment found in your room. You don't seem to exist, neither does this so-called brother of yours. We ran a check on the two of you, nothing, you're paying cash for everything and the credit card you used to book the room belongs to Robert Singer of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, as does your cars registration. So now, we're going to take you in and run your prints and find out just who the hell it is you are." the baton was under his chin, forcing his head up and then backwards at an uncomfortable angle. "Go ahead, give me a reason."

"Paying cash in not against the law, the motel demanded a credit card, Bobby gave us the loan of his, we'll pay cash when we check out, and that too, is not illegal."

"Too many questions, nowhere near enough answers. Now let's go."

"One would think you had better things to do, what with half the town buried under a mountain of snow than harass me about paying cash for everything."

"Keep talking." he was jerked by one officer, shoved by the other. Sam decided it was best to go with them, fighting would get him nowhere, was more than likely to earn him a bruise or two, maybe a split lip or a sore gut and the last thing he needed was Dean going Rambo on the local authorities. If he knew anything, it was the sure fact Dean would find a way through the snow to reach him.

***000***

"Sam Wesson." the Sheriff greeted, offering a hand, letting it fall when he realized Sam was cuffed. "Have a seat Sam." he closed the door to his office behind them. "I'd thank you for coming but judging by the jewelry you're sporting, I'm guessing my men had to encourage you to come with them."

"They were quite insistent." Sam replied with heavy sarcasm, he had no reason to be polite, hell, his head still ached. "What do you want?"

"Want to talk to you, did some digging." he sat down in his chair behind his desk. "Sam. Sam and Dean Winchester in my town." he was impressed that Sam was able to keep his face devoid of any reaction, was able to continue looking bored. "Look, I don't care who you are…..didn't think you were here to cause trouble, but now….."

"We had nothing to do with the avalanche. You can't seriously believe…." Sam didn't bother to deny his identity, doubtful it would do him any good. He wondered how they'd been made and whether the Sheriff knew who they were due to what they did or because several years ago, before their alleged deaths, Dean was wanted by the feds. "What do you want?" Sam shifted uneasily in the chair, wanting some coffee, some ice and some ibuprofen. None of this made any sense and he didn't appreciate the way he'd been hauled in to meet the Sheriff. Dean would throw a fit once he found out.

"I know all about you Sam and your brother. Soon as Nan called me last night and told me who you were, I knew. I know you are well-trained in survival, you know how to handle a gun, you know weapons, your brother, aah, is...ruthless…." the Sheriff sat back heavily in his chair. "I need _your _help." he got to his feet and pushed Sam forward in his chair, unlocking the cuffs, taking note of the bandaged arm. Sam brought his hands to rest in his lap where he massaged his aching wrist. The Sheriff eyed him warily, not sure what to expect from the man.

Ruthless? Wrong brother, he snorted, no longer paying the Sheriff any attention, too caught up with fuming about nosy maids and interfering females. Dean just had to have fresh towels, couldn't wait until morning, had to go and call for clean towels….Sam's thumb ceased its circular motion, since when did Dean want clean towels? Sam kicked the desk, startling the Sheriff. Dammit! The episode on the side of the road wasn't due to eating dinner. He knew better, knew his brother better than that, should have known Dean was tired and so emotionally beaten down that he was vulnerable to nightmares and past memories that he'd rather remain forgotten. But Sam was annoyed over the ditch and suspicious that Dean was hiding signs of bleeding, too mad over the shower, too convinced Dean was playing with him to take a moment and admit to himself that maybe more was going on with his brother.

Ever since coming back from….hell, his brother hadn't liked being wet, hadn't liked anything wet. He'd never told Sam that, never said why, but Sam knew. Knew it as well as he knew Dean didn't like to sleep in utter darkness or complete silence. Sam thumped his forehead against the heel of his hand, Christ! What the hell? Did he need to be hit with a 2x4 to realize Dean wasn't playing with him?

"I just want to talk to you." the Sheriff was saying, Sam blinked, looking up. "Aah….I say…Sam?"

"Huh?" he gave his head a shake. "Look, I don't what you want from me, but I can't stay." Sam got to his feet. "Am I free to go?" the Sheriff made no move to stop him so Sam headed for the door. "Uh, I'm sorry, I wish we could help you, I do, but Dean's in no condition to hunt….we're on vacation."

"Hunt? Hunt what? I don't need you to hunt." the Sheriff gave him an odd look.

Sam frowned, ok, true, the Sheriff hadn't brought up any of their past hunts or activities so what was it exactly the Sheriff wanted? Was it possible he had no idea what he and Dean did? If that was the case, why arrest Sam?

"Then what do you want?" Sam asked. Leave, he urged himself, go, walk, sprint, run….just get the hell out.

"What did you do to your hand?" the Sheriff asked. Sam, who was holding his right wrist with his left hand against his belly dropped his hands to his sides.

"Shower accident." he said evasively. "So again, I ask, why am I here? What the hell do you want from me?"

"Your brother."

Sam tensed, expression hardening as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

"I need to talk to him."

"He had nothing to do with the mountain either." he felt his stomach flop and tie itself into a knot as he finally accepted that the Sheriff wasn't going to let him walk out the door. "You're not going to let me leave, are you? Why? What the hell do you…..?" Sam looked around the office. Small town Sheriff offices in the mountains of Montana normally would be stocked with hunting rifles, not semi-automatic weapons and….. "A sniper rifle? What the hell are you doing with a sniper rifle?"

"So, you really do know your weapons. Now, where do we look for your brother?"

"You don't." Sam said stonily. It was apparent the Sheriff was going to use him to ensure Dean made an appearance. Whatever the Sheriff wanted, if blackmail didn't work, then they'd use Sam to get Dean to do what he wanted, the brothers could both be arrested and turned over to the feds or they could threaten Sam with harm. "He'll be here soon enough."

"You sound pretty sure about that."

"He'll come for me." sighing in resignation, he sat down. He saw no immediate way out of the situation but that didn't mean he was accepting it. Despite whatever the Sheriff thought, whatever it was he wanted, Sam was going to come up with a plan to get them out of this situation and going to jail wasn't an option he was willing to accept. "He always does."

"So, would you like some coffee? Maybe some ice for that wrist? Seems to be giving you some pain?"

Sam glared at him, expression far from friendly. He knew that whatever the Sheriff wanted from Dean, his brother, without a doubt, wouldn't hesitate to do it if it meant he and Sam could walk away but it would come at a cost, a high one, that Sam didn't want his brother to have to pay. His leg bounced in agitation. This morning, all he'd had to do was pick up a prescription and look where he was now. Man, was his life ever screwed all to hell. Shit like this didn't happen to other people.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean bit his lip to keep the moan of discomfort from alerting Sam he was awake and in pain. Silence in the room, aside from a radio, helped him to remember refusing Sam's offering of meds and Sam saying he'd be back within an hour. Yawning, he sat up, Sam would soon return with breakfast and expected to see Dean, showered and dressed.

He'd kept his tongue yesterday when Dean had spent most of the day in bed, watching TV and Dean couldn't see the nervous ninny letting him get away with that for a second day. No, Sam wanted to leave, wanted to go to Great Falls where they'd be close to a hospital. Didn't matter what Dean wanted or what he felt up to doing. Sam had taken charge of this so-called vacation and while Dean had issues with some of his decisions, he couldn't bring himself to deny the comfort the kid got out of being in control.

Dean sprawled out in bed, in no hurry to get up. When he was down for a day or two until he could overcome the pain of whatever injury he'd suffered, he preferred solitude. This morning was one of the rare days when he'd rather have company. It was cold out, he was cold, the room was cold, it was still and sterile and he found he didn't much like that feeling. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, thinking he should get up, get dressed, bump the heat up and make some toast.

What he should do and what he wanted to do were unfortunately, nowhere near the same thing. He wanted Sam to return, wanted him safe in the motel room before the storm hit, wanted him to make Dean some hot cocoa, wanted to ask him for some Tylenol for his headache and see if Sam thought the headache that left him dizzy came from having a fever. Maybe by then, he'd have the balls to tell him about his badly swollen knee and bruised elbow and would feel bad enough he'd be willing to admit the gnawing burn deep in his belly was most likely caused by the now obvious signs that the ulcer was bleeding. He rubbed at his forehead, admitting to himself that hell, he felt like shit.

"What the fu…" he jerked awake as the room vibrated around him, books, cups, and bottles crashing to the floor as an explosion rocked the motel. The windows strained from the blast, shaking in their frames but holding.

Dean dove off the bed, landing on his sore knee and seeing black stars as he rolled about on his back, holding his knee to his chest with both hands. His emotional defenses shot to hell, he gave into the searing agony, letting the tears that pricked his eyes spill over. A second thundering had him forgetting his knee and rolling under the bed. He sprawled on his belly, panting through pain and adrenaline as he waited for the shaking and shuddering to stop.

He stayed where he was long after the earth had stilled and fallen silent. It took a moment for his befuddled brain to sort through what he had just experienced. Dean had never heard an avalanche before, but he knew without a doubt the loud thundering roar that had been the last sound to die away was a mountain of snow crashing down over the town. But that wasn't what had him lying motionless under the protection of his motel room bed. No, that would be the undeniable fact, that the sound that had brought him awake in the first place, had been dynamite blowing up the mountain to cause the avalanche in the first place.

Coughing dust from his throat, he squirmed his way out from under the bed and crawled over to the desk chair to pull himself to his feet. There was nothing but an eerie quiet and dead stillness, like he was the only person left alive. Shaking that thought from his head, he started towards the door, stopping to lift his right foot off the floor and double over, hand lowering to grasp his knee.

"Son-of-a-bitch." he muttered. "Shit." gritting his teeth he limped/hopped his way over to the door and yanked it open. He already knew without seeing that the road out-of-town was completely and utterly blocked. One thing about dynamite, if you knew what you were doing, you would blow up only what you intended to. He remained in the open doorway of his motel room, not noticing the cold, staring at the cloud of settling snow. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Where was Sam?

Finally, the bitter cold drove him back into the room, shutting the door behind him. He tried his cell, no service. He tried the motel room phone, no dial tone. He tried the internet, no connection. He sat down on his bed, mind racing, plotting, and planning. He hadn't come prepared to hike through snow. He had work boots and a coat that was heavy enough for a walk to and from the car. He had no hat, no gloves, and no warm clothes for outdoor wear. An hour, he could, would wait for one hour for Sam to return.

He lasted half an hour later, then got up and got dressed. Sam wasn't stupid, he knew how to survive and the chances of him actually being buried in the snow were slim. He would have been either in town or on his way back from the drugstore. Had he been in town, and been ok, he would have returned to the motel by now. That meant either he hadn't made it back from the store before the avalanche hit, or he wasn't ok.

Dean was done waiting; he was going to find out what had happened to his brother. Dressing as warmly as he could, he downed both his meds and some Tylenol and headed towards town on foot. It was probably a thirty minute walk to the diner but to Dean it seemed endless. The swelling in his knee, despite the cold, kept his gait to an uneven limp. His headache hadn't lessened; in fact, it increased until his peripheral vision was non-existent. Tylenol might be best for a fever but in his experience, it did shit for a headache.

Trudging on, he did his best to ignore the icy snow that froze his ears and soaked his hair. Had he been thinking, he would have brought a duffel bag with a change of clothing because the legs of his jeans were soaked to his knees and his coat, which didn't repel the snow, was soon soaked through to his shirt.

Diner first, find out if Sam had returned to town. If he was lucky, Sam would be there. He saw plenty of activity on his walk to town but encountered no mass hysteria. Seemed the town's people were coping just fine with the aftermath of a huge avalanche that hadn't been caused by nature. Dean could only guess they weren't aware that someone had deliberately caused it.

***000***

Sam looked up at the sound of raised voices outside the Sheriff's office. He got to his feet and headed towards the door, hand on the knob before the Sheriff stopped him.

"You need to let me talk to him." Sam said calmly. "He needs to see I'm ok."

"You let my men handle it."

Sam shook his head. "All that will do is cause him to fight."

"He'll see things our way or…"

"Or what? You'll lock him up? He walked here, he's cold and wet and tired, you make him fight and the only way you'll take him down is to knock him out. You wanna risk giving him a concussion?"

The Sheriffs expression didn't alter nor did he move aside and let Sam open the door. He remained motionless until there was a loud crash, followed by a grunt and then a cry of pain, raised voices and more than one voice cursing. Sam gave him a cocky grin and waved a hand impatiently towards the door.

"You gonna let that go on?" he yanked the door open and strode through, not looking to see if the Sheriff followed him. "Dean, hey, DEAN! I'm right here!"

Dean was held between two officers, a third, the one who'd poked Sam with the baton, lay unmoving on the floor. He stopped resisting the men's hold when he saw Sam, jerking free when the Sheriff motioned to his two officers to let him go.

"You ok?" Dean asked, flexing his hand and shaking feeling back into bruised knuckles. Upon seeing his brother upright and walking, and by all appearances, ok, the fight drained out of him, leaving him feeling weak and dizzy. He gave his head a shake, trying to clear it before being overwhelmed with light-headedness.

"Did you even ask to see me or did you come in here with your fists swinging?" Sam accused, hands on his hips.

"Robin said you were arrested. Do they seriously believe you blew up the mountain? Are you freaking kidding me?"

"No, no, look….." Sam frowned. "Dean?" he was shaking, ears red from the cold, lips chapped from the wind. "You're soaked."

"Blizzard out there Sammy." he bit his lip in a futile attempt to keep his teeth from chattering. "What do they want with you?" he couldn't stop the severe shudders that racked his body, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. Now that he was standing still, all but motionless, his body was succumbing to the effects of the wet and cold conditions he'd walked through.

"Come here." Sam was relieved to see him. Wasn't happy he'd walked into town, but was happy that they were once again together. Now all he had to do was keep Dean calm and make sure he was ok. "You need to get out of those wet clothes, get dry and warm, how you feeling anyway?"

"Why are you here Sam?" he wasn't placated by Sam's calm tone, not when he saw the bruised egg-sized lump on Sam's forehead. "They do that?"

"I'll fill you in, come with me. There's a couch in the Sheriff's office, I want you to lie down for a while." Sam stopped at the look on his brother's face. He resisted the urge to look in a mirror to see if he had grown a second head because the look he was receiving clearly stated he had. "What?"

"You want me to what?"

"Uh, lay down?"

"I couldn't have heard you right." Dean's eyes were impossibly wide; Sam hadn't known a person's eyes could go so wide.

"_Lay down_? What the hell is wrong with you?" his threw his hands up, would have paced about the room had he been free to do so, settled instead for stomping his feet. "Half the town is buried under a mountain of snow, which, by the way, someone deliberately blew up! You've been arrested, _again,_ they know _who_ we are and they want something from us and you want me to _take a nap_? Are you out of your freaking mind?"

"You need to calm down." Sam said quietly. Dean was pale and shaking, eyes rolling in and out of focus. Sam didn't know whether that was a result of the walk in the wet snow or not. God, but he hoped that's all it was. "Please?"

"NO! We are leaving…"

"That's not an option." the Sheriff spoke up. "We'd like to talk to you Dean, I….."

"Let me handle this." Sam warned, flashing him a look that said, 'back off'. "Dean, hey, come with me, ok? please?"

"SAM!" Dean growled, shaking free of the now lax hold on his arms. "No, you hear me? I'm fine, I don't need to lie down, I don't need…"

"NO!" Sam shouted, lunging forward to stop the officer, who had been unconscious on the floor and was now on his feet, from raising the baton in his hand. "Nnnnoooooo!" it was a howl of outrage, he was too far away and he couldn't reach the officer in time to stop him from ramming the baton into Dean's gut.

While the force of the blow doubled him over, Dean managed to keep his feet. He grunted, stumbling forward, hands first clenched against his belly, and then splaying out to try to catch his forward fall. A blow from the baton to the back of his head, and Dean was out cold in a heap on the floor.

Sam saw red, swinging in a blind rage, one fist to the face, and the baton wielding officer was on his knees. Sam didn't pause in his attack, jerking the baton from the man's grasp and swinging it with his full strength, catching him across the jaw. Injured wrist be damned, the force behind Sam's swing knocked the man across the room, leaving him unconscious.

The Sheriff raised his hand to ward his officers off from grabbing Sam and waved them to see to the fallen officer. He'd heard bones crunch, the man was in for serious pain; bones, plural, in his face were definitely broken. Had Sam continued after the man, the Sheriff would have intervened but Sam turned his attention to his brother.

***000***

Dean groaned, coming to awareness slowly, trying to block out the bright light next to his head by bringing his arm up to lay across his eyes. He heard a soft voice give orders and the light. He lay still for a moment, trying to collect his wits and remember what happened. His head felt wet, damn, he hated being wet, and he was cold, always cold. At first he thought he'd gone blind in one eye, then realized he laid on his side. As he became more alert, he realized something cold was being held with pressure to the back of his head.

"Hey." fingers massaged he nape of his neck, the gesture comforting but doing nothing to ease the sickening ache.

"Sam?" he groaned. "Mm mm, ow," he tried to keep from vocalizing his discomfort but the pain was too great. Sam shushed him, stopping him when he tried to ease on his back. "Just stay still." yeah, he was fine with that order. He'd stay put and let Sam make him feel better. Except…he wasn't sure that was possible, an axe was trying to split his head into two, and his stomach rolled and heaved and tried to push its way up his throat.

"Breathe through it." Sam coached. "Don't you dare be sick now." the pressure at the back on his head eased and a hand squeezed along his collarbone, soothing and easing his breathing.

Dean accepted the comfort. He was able to discern he was shed of his wet clothes, facing the back of a couch with a blanket covering him to his waist. He wasn't happy, not all, he didn't like not remembering what happened, how he'd ended up wherever he was and he didn't like not being in control. He sure as hell wasn't happy he was in his underwear, clothes taken god knew where. If Sam wasn't sitting beside him, one hand in constant contact, babbling bullshit just so Dean could hear his voice, Dean would be in a full-fledged panic.

"How is he?"

Dean tensed, pushing up from the couch cushion at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Where the hell was he and who was with them? He started to sit up, Sam didn't need to try to stop him, his body did that all on its own. His arm giving out under his own weight, he dropped back into the pillow supporting his head. Trust Sam, an inner voice told him, trust him to take care of both you and the situation.

"He's doing great, thanks." Sam spat. "Thanks, thanks a lot."

"Look, I'm sorry. I never meant for either of you to be hurt, its just….Jerry just misunderstood the situation."

Sam pointed to his own forehead, gave the Sheriff a what-the-fuck shrug and turned back to Dean. The back of his head had split open from the baton and while it had bled, it wouldn't require stitches. Sam fingered the painful egg-sized swollen lump on his forehead; blinking at tears at the thought of how painful a lump the size of a tennis ball must be. He dabbed at the wound that sluggishly oozed blood with a cold, wet towel. He expected it to hurt but Dean didn't react like the administrations were causing him any discomfort.

"Jerry needs to be a little less enthusiastic with his baton."

"Has he woken up yet?"

"He's showing signs of doing so now." he could tell Dean was becoming more and more awake by the fact he didn't want to remain on his side. "You can go away."

"I need to talk to you, him…the both of you."

"Go ahead." Sam tossed the wet cloth and picked up a cold compress he'd gotten from the first-aid kit the Sheriff had given him. "I'm sure he's able to understand every word you say."

"Sammy?" he fought against Sam's attempt to hold him down, finally easing onto his back with the compress on the pillow under his head. "God, I feel awful!"

"Yeah, bet you do. Lucky you got a hard head, how's your stomach feel?"

"Not going there yet." his bare foot rubbed against this bare leg. "Dude, where're my clothes?"

"Wet. Didn't you think to bring clothes with you? Blizzard out there Dean." he flung the words back in his brothers face. "So, feeling better yet?"

"Screw you." Dean muttered searching with one hand for the blanket so he could pull it up to his chin. Sam had to help him do it and Dean gritted his teeth to keep from snarking. "Little far to go to get your own way, don't you think Sammy?" his eyes closed. A hand touched his forehead; a thumb pried first one eye open, then the other.

"I wanted you to lie down, not be knocked out."

"End result's the same, I'm down." he murmured. "So doc, concussion?"

"No, but you aren't going back to sleep, time to sit up and drink some tea for me."

Tea? Was he serious? Dean did not drink tea; not hot, not cold, not iced, not at all. Drink some tea, yeah right, he snorted, snuggling into the depths of the sofa, blanket and pillow. Ten minutes later he was sitting on the sofa, feet on the floor, elbows on his thighs, blanket now around his shoulders, sipping from a mug of hot tea, Sam holding the cold compress to the back of his head.

"What do they want?" Dean hated tea, didn't matter if he added milk or lemon or sugar or honey, he hated it and wanted coffee. Sam was insistent that he drink something hot, had even let him add a splash of brandy, but it didn't make it any better.

The Sheriff was chased out of the room after he'd delivered the requested tea so they were alone. He let Sam satisfy his need to feel for a pulse with his thumb without complaint despite how often he did it. He didn't even point out you weren't supposed to feel for a pulse with a thumb. If it made Sam feel better to constantly reassure himself Dean wasn't suffering from a concussion, fine.

He didn't realize it was his actual tolerance of Sam's touch that had the younger man silently freaking out. If Dean was conscious, he didn't sit for anyone tending his boo-boos and he sure as hell never sat quietly and willingly allowed someone to apply ice for him. He didn't let anyone close, not even Sam and had he taken a moment and thought about the situation, he would have known his actions were out of the ordinary and the cause for Sam's nervousness.

"I dunno, he never got around to telling me. I have an idea it has something to do with the siren we heard last night and someone blowing up the mountain to cause an avalanche, 'cause let's face it, someone wanted that road closed and possibly, a sniper rifle."

"Sniper rifle?" Dean forced more tea down his throat - only - because it made Sam happy to see him drink it. Damn little brothers with their pleading looks of innocence. He grimaced, damn stuff was nasty. "Here? Have you seen it?

"It's right there."

Dean twisted around to look. He choked on his tea, causing Sam to give him the expected but useless thump on the back. There were all kinds of sniper rifles in the world, most used by swat teams and armed forces specialists, few, if any, used by small town sheriff departments.

"Dude, that's a tac-50." good for long distances, fired a bullet that would go through brick and concrete, was easy to handle. "You think…."

"I don't know what to think, the Sheriff is in his late sixties, I don't think the four officers I've seen would know what to do with it." Sam mused. Dean was still pale, and his eyes had yet to focus properly but he was no longer violently shaking and his hands held the mug steady. He'd admitted to a bad headache, some dizziness and limited vision but had yet to say anything about his stomach. "So, your knee?"

"Oh." and just like that, the pain in his knee was back and he stretched it out, lowering a hand to massage it. "Saw that, huh?"

"You all but threw a fit when I pulled your jeans off."

"Yeah, about that, you did that why?"

"Cause you needed to be dry and warm Dean, so let me guess, the shower?"

"Yeah." Dean sighed. Here was the perfect opportunity to tell Sam the truth. He hesitated a second to long and Sam picked up on it, eyes narrowing and his eyebrows met when his forehead creased. Dean couldn't stop the smirk that crossed his face as he tried to decide if Sam was frowning or scowling. He played with the mug, raising a hand to rub at his eyes, before he could say a word, the Sheriff returned.

"Ready to talk?" he sat down. "Let me be clear, I don't want to arrest you, I ask that you hear me out." he handed Sam a file. "Ned Burrows. He was once my best deputy, served a term overseas, came back but was never the same again. He was violent, at times brutal and I had to let him go."

"That his rifle?" Sam asked. Setting the compress in Dean's lap, he opened the file. "His personal rifle, right?"

"Yup."

"Let me guess, he's back." Dean didn't remove his hand from his face. "And pissed."

"I say he's insane, god knows what he's capable of."

"Has he said what he wants?" Sam asked, he'd been flipping through the file, but when he realized it was the man's personnel record from the service, he sat back and took his time to read the doctors reports and psyche evaluations. "Wow, some heavy-duty meds were prescribed. The doctors couldn't agree if he was bipolar or a schizophrenic, but did agree he was mentally ill, was unable to distinguish reality, and was suicidal."

"What do you want us to do?" Dean asked wearily. God, was he tired; the mug weighed ten pounds, the absence of the cold pack on the back his head became obvious and rat-a-tat tat took up residence in his skull.

"Take him out before he can hurt anyone."

"Take him out?" Sam repeated, looking up from the file in his lap. "Take him out how? It's not like its oh-so-simple." he shook his head, reaching to take the mug from Dean's limp grasp without taking his attention from the Sheriff. "You have four deputies…"

"None of which can use that rifle."

"Then send someone for help. You can make it out on snowmobile."

"I tried. I tried the FBI, I tried the state police, all phone lines are down, there's no computer access, not even with wireless internet, satellite phones are down, cb's out. He effectively cut us off from the outside world. Now the storm is here, last prediction was up to two feet. Even if I manage to get someone to Great Falls, god knows what he could do in the time it would take for help to get here. No chopper is going to fly in this blizzard and no road crew is going to start clearing the roads until this storm had blown through."

Sam cursed, pushing a hand through his hair. He didn't want this to be their problem. The Sheriff wasn't resorting to blackmail, not yet anyway. Though the file certainly looked authentic, Sam didn't have access to the internet or Bobby to confirm the Sheriffs story.

"You can call in a swat team, the state police, a chopper, the local news, the entire fire department in five minutes flat when you _think_ I left a two-year old kid unattended in a motel room but you don't call _anyone_ when a psychotic menace with a grudge comes to town?" he snorted his derision. "Gotta love small towns and their screwed up priorities." he pushed to his feet to pace, stealing a glance at Dean to see how he was holding up. "Guess _it_ didn't occur to you last night when you blew the siren to call for help when you had the opportunity to do so." he tried, but couldn't keep the disdain from his tone. "Now, you're all his hostages, he's holding the entire town and it's _so not our problem_."

"We knew he was in town last night but we had no reason to suspect he was going to blow the mountain. By no means had he taken the town hostage." the Sheriff objected. "Not then!"

"You can't ask Dean to do this." Sam said. "You want him to….Christ….no."

"I'm not asking you to kill anyone, just take him out."

"No." Sam stated flatly. "I don't know what it is you think you know about us, but we don't just go around shooting people."

"I know both of you are excellent shots…" the Sheriff began.

"This isn't our problem and being good with a gun doesn't mean we are capable of picking someone off with a sniper rifle. If that was true, then your own men could do it."

"I don't have a lot of options, all I'm asking for is your help…."

"Asking?" Sam was getting agitated, hell, he was getting angry. "You call this your way of _asking_? You had me dragged in here in cuffs, my forehead kissed a counter, you split his freaking head open…."

"Sam."

"You don't just _ask_ someone to shoot another human being because you are afraid of what he _might _do!" Sam was ranting, voice raised. "Take him out? That's all, right? Take him out how? Head shot is a kill shot!"

"He already blew up a mountain." the Sheriff argued.

"So what? You think it's easy to just go shoot someone? You think there are no consequences?"

"Sam."

"There are women and children in this town, there's no telling what he might do."

"He might do nothing."

"Or he could commit murder-suicide."

"I DON'T CARE!" Sam yelled.

"SAM!" Dean wasn't about to be ignored a third time.

WHAT_?_" he whirled on Dean who had lain back against the sofa, eyes closed.

"Enough." Dean growled harshly. He had to keep his eyes closed, he'd tried to open them but the light was too much.. "Turn the damn light off." he ordered with a wince. "Christ."

"Great." Sam threw his hands up in disgust, just what he needed, Dean siding with the Sheriff. "You aren't thinking…..Fuck, you are….Jesus Dean." Sam sat down on the couch next to Dean. "Why, why would you?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Why would I have too?"

"You can make the shot just as easily as I can, you know that." the difference was, Sam's conscious versus his own, there was always the possibility something could go wrong. Killing a man would weigh heavily on Sam, Dean would shake it off in a couple of days. Dean didn't want to put more on his brother whose mental stability was on borrowed time, but he had to admit that physically, he wasn't doing so hot.

The Sheriff sent a startled look Sam's way. He hadn't been aware Sam was as efficient with special weapons as his brother was. He couldn't deny Sam knew both how to fight and how to handle himself. His deputy with the broken jaw and smashed cheek bones was proof of that. He also knew Sam could control his temper and his anger when he wanted to, he'd walked away from the fallen officer to go to his brother.

"Dean, no." Sam pushed with a sigh of defeat. "I…. I have the ability due to years of practice, your ability is a natural-born talent. If it comes to…having to kill him….you won't hesitate …..I….god, I don't know what…" he could feel the fine trembling in Dean he hadn't been able to see. He didn't know whether it was from the cold or exhaustion or from fighting to remain on top of the pain, he just knew he didn't like it. "I just don't think you're up to this." his voice was soft. "I mean, are you? How do you really feel Dean?"

"It's not like we agreed to do this Sammy." Dean said thickly, god, not now. He couldn't be sick now, not…. now. He swallowed hard, taking deep breaths to get through the spasms that clenched his belly, breaking out into a heavy sweat when he failed.

"It's not fair for him to put this on us Dean, it's not right…..it's not."

"So, you can just walk away?" he tried to breathe normally, tried not to pant, he thought he was successful until Sam's knee bumped against his own. "Shit."

"Something you want to tell me Dean?" Sam tensed, his voice held an edge. "What's the matter? Hey, talk to me." he bent forward, trying to look his brother in the face but Dean kept his head lowered, forcing Sam to grab his jaw and raise his head. "You don't get to ignore me, not now, not after this…you can't do this to me Dean, you can't….." Dean didn't pull away, he met Sam's gaze who cursed. "Gonna be sick?"

"It was your…great….idea for me…to drink tea."

"Can't you fight through it?"

"Trying Sammy."

"Private bathroom right there." the Sheriff said. "Men's room out in the hallway."

"Ok, come on, but I swear, if you puke blood….."

"Um, about that…."

"What, you throw up this morning?"

"No." he lowered his eyes. Sam clenched his jaw so tightly, a vein in his neck pulsed.

"Now? You're bleeding now? Now, when we're being held by the police, now, when we can't leave because the only road out is blocked by a mountain of snow, now when we are all but being blackmailed into shooting a man, now when a freaking blizzard is here and the only possible way out, _might _be by snowmobile, you pick _now_ to bleed out?"

"Sammy, come on, I didn't choose this, and I'm not bleeding out, you've known there was a good chance it would bleed." he wiped the back of his hand across his upper lip, lowering his head to groan into his chest. That was his Sammy, gentle and caring one second, angry and violent the next.

"Yeah, I did, and you agreed you would go to the hospital if it did. Why do I ever listen to you? I mean, Christ, we would have been there yesterday, but no, you didn't want to ride in the car. I should have ignored you and driven straight to the hospital when you crawled out of the car to lose your dinner in a ditch. Man, I am a wuss! Wait and see if the storm comes." he snorted. "Again, I fall for it again."

"Good Sam, real good, beat yourself up, that'll help."

"What the hell else am I supposed to do?" he held a hand up when Dean opened his mouth. "Do not say it." he warned. "Don't you dare or I swear I will knock you out!"

Dean took one look of his brother's angry face and knew he didn't dare push him. "We need to make a plan."


	5. Chapter 5

A plan.

Riiiight...he bet Dean's plan differed from his own. He got up and walked to the other side of the office, needing some space, forgetting that Dean was trying not to vomit into his lap. Sam pushed at his hair, weaving the tangled locks in and around his fingers. He wanted to have it out with the Sheriff, accuse him of being unfair and unrealistic, wanted to demand if he was going to arrest them if they refused to help.

Neither he nor Dean was in any danger, no one and nothing was threatening them, not unless you counted the Sheriff. Dean would want to help, would feel obligated to do so, would say it was his job, and would want to do whatever was expected of him so he and Sam could walk away. He would whine and wheedle and beg Sam to see things his way. That was the plan Dean would come up with.

But, dammit, not this time. The world was going to have to survive without the Winchesters. Sam was going to take his brother, leave the Sheriff's department and find someone who would give them a snowmobile and directions out-of-town. Maybe Robin would drive them to the auto store. Ok, so it was freezing outside, and neither he nor Dean was dressed for a snowmobile ride, but so what? They'd managed to live through worse conditions, and if Great Falls was a thirty minute drive by car, he figured by cutting through the woods and taking trails on a slower means on transportation, the trip would take about an hour.

Dean wanted a plan, there it was, he didn't have to like it, could argue against it, could throw a temper tantrum for all Sam cared, but there was nothing he could say to change Sam's mind because it was the only plan Sam was going to make. He nodded, mentally patting himself on the back, pleased with himself for his 'plan'. No way was Dean going to make him change his mind either. This time Dean was not going to get his way. Decision made, done, final.

"Dean…." he turned around to face his brother ready to announce his decision, but any words he'd been meaning to say stuck to his tongue. His brother had lain back down, once again on his side, the blanket pulled around him and the cold compress on the back of his head. Poor Sam didn't move, didn't know what to do. He'd expected an argument, denial, refusal, but not this, never this.

Standing across the room chewing on his thumb wasn't going to inform Dean of the decision he'd made, solve any problems or make him see things Sam's way but at that very moment, Sam couldn't even make himself blink. His frustration over his brother putting everyone and everything before himself subsided, replaced with gut-thumping concern as Sam was forced to acknowledge Dean was telling him how he felt, his actions spoke loudly even if Sam was the only who could hear them. Laying down, keeping the ice, hugging a blanket told him everything he needed to know. Dean wasn't going to walk away and leave the town at the mercy of a lunatic, no matter what Sam wanted and he was doing what he could to prepare himself for whatever came next.

Dean didn't want to scare or upset Sam further but he couldn't remain sitting up. He didn't dare be sick, he couldn't do that without crying and since there was no way Sam was going to let him out of his sight, vomiting in front of his brother wasn't something he could allow himself to do.

Lying down with his eyes closed kept the nausea controllable. The cold compress held to his head stopped the jack hammer from sending vibrations down the back of his neck. What really helped was the massaging but he didn't dare ask Sam to continue. That would send Sammy over the edge. He was pretty sure he'd be able to sleep off most of the pain but Sam was angry and the Sheriff was impatient and the world and its problems weren't going to stop so Dean Winchester could take a nap.

He wanted to push aside his misery and take control, if only to ease the burden currently on Sam, he couldn't do so now and be able to do so later. How the hell was he supposed to aim a gun and take a shot to incapacitate someone without accidentally killing them when he couldn't even hold a gun properly?

He couldn't ask Sam to do it. He'd felt that option out earlier and concluded it wasn't an avenue he could take. The Sheriff wasn't going to just let them walk away. If he were, Sam wouldn't be sporting a lump on his forehead and or been dragged into the Sheriff's department in cuffs. He didn't know whether the Sheriff's story was true, the situation would be easier if it were but he didn't really care, if shooting some man is what it took to ensure he and Sam weren't arrested, then fine, he'd familiarize himself with the sniper rifle, find where the dude was holed up and finish the job.

Easy-peasy!

Well, it would be as soon as he could see straight, sit up without wanting to vomit and be able to tolerate bright light. Best he find a way because there was no way he was going to put on Sam the burden of carrying out the Sheriff's wishes. He needed to let Sam do what Sam did best, assess the situation and come up with a plan while he got on top of his pain and disorientation and the only way to do that was to get some sleep now. Laying down made him feel better, but his problem was his head. He'd address the flare-up in his belly later. Even he couldn't tell if the baton to the gut had caused any additional issues.

Sam perched a hip on the arm of the couch next to his brother. Dean didn't need to say anything, that he had lain down told Sam while he may not have a concussion, his head was giving him fits and the only thing to be done about it was to let him sleep. They'd been there too many times before for the other not to recognize the signs. He forced himself to breathe normally and leave Dean be when what he really wanted to do was haul Dean upright, shake him until his eyes opened and check them yet again for signs of concussion and disorientation.

"Do you have any idea where he is?" he asked the Sheriff. Might as well pass the time while he waited for the stubborn ass to relax and fall asleep.

The Sheriff blinked, pulling his wayward thoughts back to the man in front of him asking questions. He was having a hard time following the logic between the two men. Sam went from being compassionate to angry to worried to understanding in rapid succession. The Sheriff didn't understand why Dean didn't get mad and throw a punch.

"Not yet."

"You do plan on trying to talk to him first, don't you?"

"Doubt it will do any good, he didn't want to talk last night and this morning…..well….but yes, yes!" seeing the look on Sam's face, the sheriff quickly corrected his words. "We will find him and try to talk to him, I want to bring him in, but, that's not going to happen."

"As far as he's concerned, there's nothing you can do to stop him, is there? He knows none of you can use that rifle to take him out and he'll know to remain out of range of any weapon he knows you can use. Just tell me this, did you know who we were before you blew that siren last night?"

The Sheriff went over and sat down at this desk. He'd spent all night reading everything he could on the brothers, had called an old friend with contacts within the FBI who had faxed over a file not normally released to local police departments. One thing was clear; the file was incomplete, inaccurate and lacking in detail.

"Nan is my wife, she was with me when I got the call Burrows was spotted outside the auto store. I went to talk to Stubby and Curt, confirmed it indeed was Burrows and had the siren sounded. That's when she told me who you were. It didn't matter, not until then…." Sam could sense it was hard for the man to admit he couldn't handle the situation himself and while Sam could understand the position he was in, he couldn't forgive him for: not calling for help when he'd had the chance, for having him arrested and for allowing his deputies to be a bit overzealous with trying to control both him and Dean.

"Not 'til this morning and the avalanche." Dean stirred, head bumping against Sam's hip. "You might be panicking over nothing, he could just leave."

"Dean…." Sam said softly, trying to take the compress from him, giving up when Dean held tight. "He's not here just to get a meal at the diner. His mind doesn't work that way. He's here for revenge, he's sick in the head and there's no telling what he'll do."

"Do you think he'll hurt innocent people?" the fact he hadn't asked to see the file on Burrows himself told Sam just how much his brother trusted his judgment.

Sam bit his lip. He didn't want to answer that question. Dean wasn't asking the Sheriff, his faith and his trust didn't lie with a man he didn't know. He was asking Sam, who'd read the file and had a better understanding of what kind of man Burrows was.

"There's no way of knowing if he will." Sam said hesitatingly, pausing as green eyes clouded with pain searched out his own, asking for the answer to the question that remained unspoken. "Yeah, yeah, Dean, he's capable of it."

Dean gave a slight nod and let his eyes close. Least he'd be able to sleep until they located the wacko. Sam's tender feelings be damned, Dean needed to sleep off the damage done to his head if he was to be in any kind of shape to do what needed done. As far as he was concerned, there was no longer any hope the situation would be resolved peacefully. Sam cursed, punching the back of the sofa but let Dean go to sleep, pass out, whichever. Once again, Sam's vow of not letting Dean get his own way had taken a one way ticket straight to hell.

"All-right." Sam stood up. "Couple things, Jerry doesn't come near me. I don't want to see him or talk to him or see him anywhere near my brother, is that understood? Or I'll shove his beloved baton so far up his ass he'll choke on it."

And that right there, the Sheriff noted is what made the illegally gained filed so incomplete. Nowhere did it mention Sam's ability with a sniper rifle matched his brothers. Nowhere did it hint Sam was prone to violent fits of rage and nowhere did it allude to the fact Sam was capable of following through on such a fit. Dean was supposed to be the ruthless, dangerous one, there wasn't one written word that described Sam as defensive, protective and downright brutal when his brother was threatened. The Sheriff made a mental note to add all of that to Sam's file as well as his ability to inflict lasting and incapacitating damage with his fists.

"I, aah, don't think that's going to be a problem, he's been taken over to Doc McGee's."

Sam reached for the sniper rifle. "Tell me you got ammo."

"Uh, yeah, yeah…." he licked his lips nervously, backing up a step with the look that crossed Sam's face as he held the rifle and stared the Sheriff down. "Um….."

"Got another room where I can break this down and look it over? I'd rather not take it apart with other people in the room. Any idea how long it's been since it's been fired?"

"Fired Burrows about eight months ago, he was the last person to use it and that was just for target practice."

Sam cast a glance at Dean, then followed the Sheriff from the room, pushing the door open when the Sheriff made to close it behind him.

"No one goes near him." Sam warned. "And the door remains open."

"No one here means him any harm." the Sheriff said defensively. "Jerry was…."

"I'm not worried about anyone harming him." Sam said flatly. "Go near him at your own risk, he doesn't wake up well." Sam saw the look on the Sheriff's face and relented just a bit. "Look, I don't want him to do this, and I don't think it's right that you ask him to. If I had my way, I'd knock him out, toss him over my shoulder and walk away but eventually he'll wake up and that's a Dean-in-a-mood I just don't want to deal with. You'll get what you want because he agreed to it but I don't have to like it." Sam was angry at himself for once again ceding to his brothers wishes.

He didn't want to see a mass murder happen in this small town but it wasn't their responsibility to prevent it from happening. They shouldn't have been recognized, the sheriff's department shouldn't have a military trained sniper turned ex-deputy out for revenge in the town they'd decided to seek refuge in. The Sheriff shouldn't have been able to obtain some file on them, he shouldn't know how well-trained they were with a gun. The Sheriff shouldn't have been too stupid or too stubborn to call for help when he'd the chance to do so. Christ, was there no place left on earth they could run to and actually be left in peace? He was beginning to think not.

"I'm not asking him to kill anyone. I don't want Burrows dead but I don't want him killing people at random either. I was under the impression your brother was that good with a rifle, if he's not…"

"He is." Sam cut in. "But perhaps you didn't notice….he's not healthy, didn't _your_ wife bother to tell you _that_? And, oh yeah, your deputy! It doesn't matter if you want the man dead, what matters is, you are asking my brother to shoot another human and any number of things could go wrong, Dean doesn't need that."

"It may not come to that." the Sheriff offered weakly.

"Look, just do your job and find him, until then, leave Dean alone." Sam still harbored slim hope he could talk reason into Dean once he woke up. He was afraid the Sheriff would come back with the report Burrows had taken hostages and Dean would insist on taking the wacko out.

***000***

Sam sat down at the table in the room the Sheriff had led him to and laid the gun on the table. He just sat and stared at it then the ammo. His wrist ached, but wouldn't impede his handling of the gun if it came to that. One way or another, Burrows would be taken out and Dean would do everything he could to ensure it was himself pulling the trigger instead of Sam. That meant hiding how he felt, denying symptoms and lying straight to Sam's face. He'd have to be on Dean alert.

This was Dean's area of comfort. Sam would rather try to talk Burrows down, search for a non-violent way to end the situation. BUT if it came down to having to site a target with the scope on a sniper rifle and pull the trigger - IT - being the well-being and life of his brother, Sam would blow the head off whoever was threatening him. No questions asked, no remorse felt.

Sam sighed, pulling a box of ammo across the table and flipping the lid open, Dean wasn't being threatened by anyone. Not yet anyway and even then, his life wasn't in danger. Well, Sam had always filed imminent arrest and pro-longed captivity under the category of well-being, sooooo…..with a glance at the one-way window, behind which, he was sure the Sheriff stood and watched to see how he handled the gun, he began to strip it down.

Dean woke up alone, familiar noises telling him someone was nearby, if not in the room with him. He pushed himself up, not bothering to roll over and take a minute to orient himself. Swinging his feet to the floor, feeling vulnerable in his underwear, he opened his mouth to yell for Sam and promptly clapped his hand over his mouth as he bolted for the bathroom in the office. As he went down on his haunches in front of the toilet - there was no way he was going to sit or kneel on the floor with his bare legs, his only thought was keeping his queasy stomach from Sam. Ten minutes later, he was splashing water on his face and saw a man's reflection in the mirror from just outside the doorway.

"Where's Sam?" he asked hoarsely, turning the spigot off and licking water from his dry lips.

"Down the hall, we're supposed to let him know when you're awake. He hoped you'd sleep awhile." the man didn't move. His tone was friendly and his stance wasn't threatening so Dean relaxed, relieved Sam hadn't gone after the would-be shooter on his own; he didn't remember Sam wanted nothing to do with going after Burrows.

The pain in his head had subsided to a normal headache and he wondered how to go about cajoling Sam into letting him have some Excedrin migraine aspirin. He he'd found it worked best and the fastest on any type headache he'd ever had. His luck, Sam would agree because he knew Dean wouldn't be able to find any. He sure as heck hadn't brought any with him and he doubted Sam carried a bottle around in his pocket.

He turned to face the man, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he yawned and stretched, wrists clasped together, arms extended over his head. Yup, he definitely felt better, he was warm and thawed and even a bit hungry. Huh, hadn't expected that. The man backed up a step for every one Dean took out of the bathroom, eyeing him warily, poised to run at any sudden movement from Dean.

"My clothes?"

"I'll get your brother." the man was at the door, one hand safely outside the doorway.

"Hey, while you go find him, could you point me towards a water fountain?"

The man nodded, stepped out of sight and returned with a paper cup of water he set on a table just inside the door. He was gone before Dean could even say thanks. What the…Dean mused as he walked over to the table, really, the dude couldn't have walked another four steps and handed him the cup?

"Hey." Sam came in, jeans and shirt over one arm. "How you feeling?"

"What the hell's going on Sam?" he sat down on the sofa, ankle on knee, trying to ease the stiffness in his bum leg.

"Nothing, why?"

"Poor kid acts like he's scared to come near me."

"Yeah, well….oh."

"Can I have my clothes? How long I been asleep?"

"About two hours, how's the head?"

"No longer hurts, just a headache. Don't suppose I can talk you into letting me have some Excedrin?"

Sam was quiet. No, he didn't want Dean to have aspirin of any kind, especially since he'd admitted the ulcer was bleeding but surely two wouldn't cause him further damage? It wasn't like he'd be taking them regularly, just this one time. If a couple of aspirin enabled Dean to throw the last remnants of his headache, which, Sam reminded himself, luckily wasn't a concussion, he'd let him have four.

"You'll need to eat something." Sam cautioned. Dean's foot fell off his leg and hit the floor with a thud, eyes wide as he looked up at his brother – who was smirking.

"Good one, you prick." Dean muttered, mistaking the smirk for smugness. Sure, Sam agreed to let him have some because he knew they didn't have any.

"What was that for?" Sam asked perplexed. "Name calling? Come on!"

"You agreed only because we don't have…." he swallowed with an audible gulp as Sam tossed a packet of Excedrin migraine aspirin at him; he plucked in one-handed from mid-air. "Dude, you're awesome! Where'd you get these?"

"Any mini-mart sells them, cost a fortune for two friggin' pills."

"And you just happen to have them on you?"

"Never leave home without them or mints for your breath or a snack for when you get cranky or a rub….."

"Whoa! TMI!" Dean held a hand up to ward off further conversation. "TMI, TMI! Any word on our local psycho?"

"Owns a sweet gun."

"Any idea where he is?" Sam shook his head, Dean scowled. "Great, how's the town coping with being snowed in by an avalanche and a blizzard?"

"Surprisingly well. I'll find you something to eat, does light still bother you?"

"Not so much, I'm ok."

"I have two more. I'd rather you not take all four at once, but if you need more…" Sam waited but Dean shook his head. Dean wasn't sensitive to light with every headache, just the ones that were the result of being hit with a hard, blunt object that rendered him unconscious. How Sam knew that was a testament of how well he knew his brother. The ass would never admit to such a weakness and he hadn't, Sam was that observant and though Dean could hide when he was in pain from the most skilled doctor, he didn't stand a chance when it came to the person who knew him best.

"Thanks." he swallowed the two aspirin with the last of the water. "So?"

"Dean, I'm still hoping you….don't, hell, I don't want you to do this." he stressed. Internet was still down and though Sam had read the file on Burrows from start to finish, he still couldn't verify that it was authentic.

"You think I want to? I never want to shoot anyone Sam but is there a choice here?"

"Yeah, it's called walking away."

"How?" Dean demanded. "Go where? You find a way and I'll go. The Sheriff never came out and said we were under arrest, did he? Never said if we refused to help him, he'd turn us in. Yet here we still are. There's still a chance this nut will just go away or maybe the Sheriff and his men can grab this jerk or maybe talk him down."

Sam shook his head. "Gonna be honest here Dean, that file…the meds he's on…if he's here to cause trouble, no one's talking him down, he can't be reasoned with."

"The gun will do the job, right?"

"Oh yeah. I'll go get you a sandwich."

Once fed and dressed, the aspirin easing the last of his headache, Dean went to the same room Sam had used to examine the gun. He was feeling better, but knew it was only a matter of time before his belly rallied and rebelled. Obviously the witless kid hadn't ratted him out or he would've been flat on his back on the sofa, denied the aspirin and forbidden to move.

He was able to shove aside his discomfort for the time being and hoped he could do so until the task ahead was completed. Course, that all depended on Sam not finding out he'd woken up sick. The kid didn't need to know, because if he did, he'd freak out. Most likely, with his emotional mood swings, he'd have Dean tossed in a cell and handcuffed to a cot. What better way to make sure Sam had him where he wanted him?

The door opened and Sam entered the room. Dean pushed the gun away and sat back, eyes resting on the bandage Sam had on his wrist. "How's the hand?" Dean asked. "Can I see?"

"Injury by shampoo bottle." Sam joked, letting Dean unwrap the ace bandage and rotate and flex his wrist. "Hate to see what you could do with one if you weren't sick and falling in the shower."

"Dude, again, not sick!" Dean protested. Satisfied it was only a mild sprain, he re-wrapped the wrist, relieved, yet sad to know it wouldn't stop Sam from handling the gun. "You've had time Sam, despite how you feel about us being here, I know how your mind works….where do you think he is and what do you think he's going to do?"

"Dean…..I….."

"Just spit it out."

"Okay… since he's not mad at any one person, but at the town itself…."

"You think he's targeting the school?"

"I do."

"Then let's tell the Sheriff because the sooner I can go back to the motel and go to bed, the better."

"Thought you said you were ok." he got to his feet, ready for a confrontation.

"Don't go getting your panties all twisted, being ok doesn't mean I feel all that great." he argued. "Geez Sammy, I'm being honest here, ain't that what you asked from me?"

"And you're not sick."

Dean lowered his eyes, pretending to concentrate on the gun, unable to meet Sam's eyes. If he did, he'd never be able to deny the truth. The truth being, he felt awful, weak and shaky and fighting to keep his recent meal down. If his stomach kept up its protest, he'd have to seek out some Pepto-Bismol or other antacid and that would tell Sam everything.

"All I'm saying is, I'd rather be in bed, doesn't mean I outta be."

Sam shrugged, keeping his comments to himself but just because he wasn't verbally pursuing the argument didn't mean he was letting it go. He vowed to keep a close eye on his brother so when he crashed, he'd be there to chant I-told-you-so. Meanwhile, he'd prepare himself mentally as best he could in case he ended up being the one who took the shot.

"Sam! The Sheriff..." a deputy threw the door open, pausing when he saw Sam wasn't alone. "Dean, you're up…aah, feeling ok?"

"Yeah." he shot the man a quizzical look, the kid's earlier response to him coming back. Man, what good had it done to have the kid keep an eye on him if he hadn't bothered to tell anyone he was awake? "So, anything anyone wanna tell me?"

"Told them how you wake up." Sam turned his attention to the deputy. "Where is he? The Sheriff?"

"He's outside."

"How many men you got?" Dean asked the deputy who had advanced no further than the open doorway.

"Well, including me, four."

"Four?" Dean repeated, looking at Sam. "Thought you said there were four officers."

"There are." a sheepish look crossed his face. "Were." he added lamely. "Will be." he ducked his head. "In six weeks."

"Saaam-mmm!" Dean drawled, he didn't feel alarm, he felt….pride, his Sammy was back. "What did you do?" he reached out to grab Sam's arm. "Hey, What…Did…You...Do?"

"He hit you Dean, twice! You think I'm going to let anyone get away with that? Not as long as I'm still standing!" he shrugged free. "He'll be fine but he's not helping us with this."

Dean took a deep breath, biting his lip, ok, he could live with that, he had to. Sam wasn't prone to violence, not without provocation. He'd been emotional lately and Dean was pleased he'd held it together and impressed he'd been able to regain control without help. What he didn't like was Sam acting out because someone had hurt him. Sam's mental state was questionable at best; he didn't need any help being shoved over the edge, he'd eventually go on his own.

"Broken jaw and crushed cheek bone. We won't know the extent of the damage until he's seen at the hospital." the deputy said.

"And everyone's scared of me?" Dean muttered shaking his head. He pushed to his feet, hanging on to the back of the chair to compensate for the sudden wave of dizziness. His knee chose that moment to buckle, causing Sam to clench his jaw, his vein to pulsate and his eyes to narrow. Wow, one of these days, the vein in his neck was gonna blow. Dean waved him off but didn't put him down for his visual concern. "Just need a minute Sam." he breathed through the worst of it. "Don't suppose you have a bottle of Pepto…" another plastic wrapped packet flew at him, this time hitting him in the face. "Guess you stocked up, huh? Forgot it came in tablets…" he stopped talking as Sam's expression turned dark and thunderous. "Ok, ok, ok. So next?"

"Damn you Dean, enough!" Sam hissed. "You are not ok! I don't care what this guy has done, where he is, what he might do or who he has, he's not our problem! We ARE on vacation! You are supposed to be taking it easy, not walking in a blizzard, getting beat up and chasing a mad man! Didn't we deny Bobby our help with Eve so we could come here and get _out_ of action?"

"Sam, we've been here nearly two weeks. I've had plenty of rest…."

"Yeah, and how's that working for you Dean? How the hell do you _really_ feel?" Sam was once again working himself into a rage. "Cause I gotta tell ya, you look like shit!"

"Thanks Sam, just what I need, way to give me moral support. Can always count on you, can't I?" he was too tired to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

"Keep pushing me Dean, see where you end up."

"Sam, look, I give, ok? I admit defeat and as soon as this is over, you can make me do whatever you want me to do, take me wherever you want to go. We could be snowed in here for days…..you can confine me to the motel room, hell, bed…"

"Like that'll ever happen!" his finger was in Dean's face and it was smacked away with force. "You say that, but you won't do it, you don't listen to me and I'm sick of it."

"Oh, I listen, you just always give in….." he ducked but Sam's open-handed slap still caught him upside the head. "Ow!"

"Say one more word, go ahead and we'll just see who's physically stronger." Sam had both palms on the table and was leaning across the table, nose to nose with the fool who was aching for a beat down. "If you can't walk across this room and out that door without weaving or grabbing onto something to gain your balance the only place you're going is back to the Sheriff's office and so help me god, if I have too, I will tie you to the damn sofa."

Dean held his hands up in surrender, head tilted to one side. Cell-office, cot-sofa, cuffs-rope, did he know how his brother thought or what? He wrestled with a grin, knowing if Sam saw him smirking he'd receive more than a playful slap. "Ok bro, okay…just calm down…let's go find the Sheriff, lead the way deputy."

Sam stalked after his brother as he followed the deputy from the room in muted fury. Dean could play him like a friggin' guitar, read him like an open book. Yeah, Sam always gave in, let Dean have his way but that was because the ass was always putting Sam's needs and wants ahead of his own. Catching himself grinding his teeth, he forced himself to unclench his jaw and take several deep breaths. Well, guess what? Dean was in for a surprise this time around because Sam wasn't nearly as fragile as everyone though. Yeah, he had some issues, but he still had his sanity and dammit, he wasn't going to allow Dean to sacrifice his own in a misguided attempt to protect him.

"Grade school, got a room of kids, one teacher, we're guessing fifteen to twenty kids. He's holed up in a room with concrete walls and one window. He walked in shooting, but not at anyone, far as we know no one was hurt." the Sheriff was telling Dean when Sam joined them outside on the sidewalk, the school visual in the distance.

"Called that one." Dean tossed over his shoulder at Sam. "We need a map of the school, a verbal lay-out of the room he's in and we need to talk to any eye-witnesses that saw him take the school. Will be a help if we know what weapons he has."

Sam found himself again with gritted teeth and aching jaw. Damn, he had to stop doing that! This was one time he hadn't wanted to be right. Even if the Sheriff were to agree to let them go, Dean would never walk away from a situation in which kids were in danger. That battle lost, Sam began to make plans to wage the next one, the one that would make Dean let Sam be the one to take the shot because this was one time Dean wasn't going to get his way.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam stood quietly on the sidewalk, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. He knew he should be concerned about what has happening at the school, but all he could think about was Dean outside in the cold. His gaze settled on the subject of his irritation who wasn't bothered by the cold in the least; deep in conversation with the Sheriff. That only irritated Sam more, the fool didn't look well at all, it'd only been yesterday he'd wanted Dean to see a doctor because he'd been running a fever and ….god dammit! Sam kicked at the step, just stopping himself from punching the wall. He'd been with his brother for several hours now and had forgotten all about the prescription he'd picked up that morning. Dean turned to give him a look, eyebrow quirking in that manner that made Sam want to slap his eyes closed.

"Now what?" Dean asked with a sigh, it was obvious Sam was freaking out. He had no idea why and he really didn't feel up to dealing with another meltdown. "You done? Go head, punch the building it if it will make you feel better, really screw up your hand, that'll teach me."

"Dean, stop, ok? Just stop." Sam hunched his shoulders, trying to find a way to remain calm. "I'm trying, I'm really trying to hold on here, but you don't make it easy for me. I can't keep doing this…you fight me every time I turn around and I'm tired….." clenched fists, pulsing vein, furrowed forehead, yup, full-blown Sammy meltdown coming.

"What? What did I do this time? Or not do? I'm just standing here! Come on…work with me here."

"Work with you? _Work with you_? What the hell do you think I've been doing Dean?! I've done nothing but work with you! When you felt like shit and we didn't know why, with Bobby being on your case, with Cas never being around, with your break-up with Lisa, with Samuel betraying us, with Balty dicking us around…..so how about _you_ work with _me_ for a change?!"

"Look here Sam, I've tip-toed around you for months, I went above and beyond what any brother would do to get you back and I've bent over backwards since to keep you sane. What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to talk to me! I want you to stop hiding shit from me because you think I can't handle it! God Dean, I'm not so weak and fragile that you need to kill yourself to protect my mental health! What the hell good will you be to me if you're dead? You think I can handle that again? Cause I gotta tell you, I didn't handle it so well the last time you died!"

"I'm not dying Sammy and I'm not hiding anything from you. I know how you felt and don't tell me I don't. We lost dad because of me, lost him for the same reason you lost me and you know how well I handled that!"

"Yeah, but whether you wanted me around after dad died didn't matter, I was there! I had no one. You want to do that to me again?"

"No! My God Sam, what more can I do?"

"I want you to care, care that you're sick…."

"I'm here, aren't I? I let you drag me off to bum-fuck-nowhere. I willing left my car and walked out on Bobby. I'm doing what you want….."

"That's the problem! I don't want you to do this for me!"

"Then what the hell do you want? I'm not keeping anything from you, I haven't lied to you, I haven't avoided you….."

"TALK TO ME!" Sam yelled. "I want to know how you fee. I want to know when something is wrong!"

"I do tell you! I may not spell it out for you but dammit Sam, I tell you!"

"I can't watch you every minute of the day and try to catch whatever sign you might happen to throw my way! How the hell do you think I feel when I pull over to the side of the road and you get out of the car to crawl….!"

"Is that what this is about?" Dean cut him off. "You're still hung up on the fact I wanted some privacy to puke in the bushes?"

"YES!" he shouted, hands flung out over his head. "NO! I can't believe you are willingly standing out here in this snow, getting wet, _again_, when just yesterday you argued and fought with me because I wanted you to see a doctor!"

"For the last fucking time! I DID NOT PUKE BLOOD WHEN I CRAWLED OUT OF THE CAR TO PUKE IN THE DITCH ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD!"

"Yet I had to guess the ulcer was bleeding."

"I TOLD YOU IT WAS!" Dean howled, wanting to put his fist through the wall. "I never lied to you! I haven't puked blood Sammy."

"But it's bleeding and that was before that asshole hit you with the baton. You've been running a fever and not keeping much of anything down and you've been content to lie in bed and watch TV. Deny your head hurts, go head, tell me you feel fine. You never ask for Excedrin or Pepto, you never lie on a sofa with a blanket and an ice pack, and you sure as hell never let me close enough to hold a _wet _towel to your head." that bothered Sam more than anything. Once Dean had woken up, he should have slapped Sam away and taken care of his own injury, but he hadn't. He'd sat on the sofa and let Sam fuss.

"You're confused because I'm not the one who lies and sneaks around behind your back! I'm not the one who runs away! I'm not the one who keeps things from you! I tell you everything Sam."

"Seriously? You're going to throw that in my face? You don't _'tell' _me anything Dean! You break only after I've hounded and begged you to level with me. What Dad said, what Cas told you, why Lisa broke up with you, what Alastair did to you…"

"DON'T YOU GO THERE!" Dean bellowed, advancing on Sam, forcing him backwards one step, then two. "You shut me down every time I even refer to my time there. You wanna talk about whose throwing what in whose face?"

"This isn't about me! Jesus Dean, you're so worried about me breaking, you don't even stop to consider that all I have to ground myself to reality is you! Can't you see that?"

"YES! Yes I can Sammy and I'm doing everything I can to be here for you! I'm sorry, but I can't sit down and have a face to face with you! That's just not me and you have to understand that! God, give me that much."

"Every time I try, you knock me down. It's getting harder to keep getting back up."

"I didn't ask for this!"

"YOU!" thwack, Sam was hit between his shoulder blades from behind. It wasn't a hard hit, wasn't hard enough to make him stumble and by the surprised look on his brothers face and his immediate lack of action, it was obvious he was in no danger, but still…. "How DARE you! Haven't you caused enough trouble?" three more hits, thwack, whack, whump and Dean was moving towards him.

Sam slowly turned around and an umbrella slashed his cheek. He raised a hand to his stinging face, too stunned to react. He didn't need too, Dean was between him and the umbrella-wielding banshee and before Sam could blink, the umbrella was wrenched from her grasp and flung out into the street. Standing by while some irate woman used her umbrella to beat his brother harmlessly across his back was funny, was reason to advance slowly with the intent to stop her if she didn't cease on her own, striking him across the face however, would not be tolerated.

"I should have known you were somehow involved in this!" she went at him with her fists which, had she been able to reach him, would have punched him in the shoulder. Struck dumb, Sam was unable to move or defend himself against her attack. It didn't matter, for she was soon pinned against a brick wall, an arm restraining her without excess force just under her chin.

"So Sam, someone you know?" Dean sent him a grin. "Gotta say, not your usual type, what'd you do to piss this one off?"

"Left you alone in the motel room." two fingers touched his split lip and he spit blood onto the sidewalk.

Dean's teasing demeanor fled. "This the bitch that called the police on you in the ice cream store? You've gotta be kidding me." Dean told Sam. "Do you find trouble everywhere you go? I mean, jeez Sammy, only you would be attacked on the street outside the Sheriff's office by an umbrella!"

"Let go of me this instant." she ordered renewing her struggles. "Who are you? Sheriff? Get him off me."

"Lady, you're the one who came out of nowhere and starting attacking my brother…..oomph!" her booted toe caught him in the shin, her knee clipped his inner thigh. "Look, you bit…lady, I don't go around slugging women but you are sorely trying my patience." Dean growled. "You kick me and your head will dent the wall behind it, you got me?"

Sam shook his head at the Sheriff. Dean was all bark and no bite. He would never hit or hurt a mere female unless she was coming at him or Sam with intent to kill but the Sheriff wouldn't know that and Sam didn't want him interfering. He scooped up a handful of snow and held it to his lip. He didn't call Dean off or move to intercede, just waited to see how far Dean could be pushed.

"Hank!" she bared her teeth, going for Dean's bare forearm, prevented from biting him when his opposite hand fisted her chin. "Unhand me, you worthless cur!"

"Cur?" Dean was simply not himself. His emotions were still strung high and out of control from his argument with Sam.

The headache he'd woken up with that morning was back, making him wonder if standing outside in a blizzard in just a flannel shirt was a smart thing to do. Belatedly, he recalled that very thought was what had set Sam off and escalated into the argument. Relaxing the strength in his arm that held the woman against the wall, he darted a glance over at Sam, yup, still pissed.

He raised his free hand to rub at his forehead, frowning when his fingers encountered his own warmth. Aww, shit! He'd thought his earlier headache mighta been the result of a fever and here was proof. His stomach heaved and rolled from panting through bouts of sucking in enough air to yell at the top of his lungs. He'd just dropped his arm, letting the irate woman go when her knee connected with his and with a grunt, his vision went red with anger and pain.

The Sheriff was still acceding to Sam's authority and reeling from the heated argument he had just witnessed. Dean was just as protective and defensive of Sam has Sam had been of him. By the look of the situation in front of him, Dean was willing and capable of hitting a female and Sam appeared content to let him. Though whether Dean hadn't followed through by throwing punches was because his opponent was female, had better control of his anger or because Sam hadn't really been hurt, the Sheriff couldn't decide.

He was still mentally going over what all he intended to add to the file when he noticed his deputy starting to move towards Dean. He collected his wits and assessed the situation which was getting out of hand in the middle of the street in front of a crowd of towns folk. Before he could move, Sam stepped forward.

"Dean." Sam was rigid, looked pissed and warning the deputy back with such hostility in his eyes the Sheriff rested a hand on the butt of his gun. Sam shook his head, aware of the Sheriff and the deputy looking at him oddly. "Dean, go inside,_ now_." he pointed to the door, pleased when Dean ducked his head and nodded his agreement. He wasn't paying the Sheriff much attention, focused on retrieving the forgotten prescription from his jacket and forcing his brother into taking the new medication. "Get her out of here." he told the Sheriff, turning to pull his brother away from the woman.

"I'm not going anywhere until someone gives me some answers."

"Ma'am, do you like your teeth? I'm beginning to think you aren't very fond of them." Sam said. "Are you trying to get them knocked out of your mouth?"

"Julia, what are you doing here?" the Sheriff asked with a tired sigh. Here, he'd been worried about Dean taking a fist to her when he'd all but forgotten Sam was just as capable as his brother to inflict injury. The more he was around the two men, the more unsettled he became.

"Stubby said Ned Burrows is back in town, is that true? Does he have hostages at the school? What are you doing about it? My kids are there Hank, why are you here and not over there? Did he cause the avalanche? Are these two working with him? Did they help him? Why are they free? Shouldn't they be in handcuffs and locked in a cell?"

"Julia, calm down and for god's sake, don't go pissing them off again!" the Sheriff chided.

"Who the hell are they? Are they part of this? Are they responsible?"

"We're your best chance of getting your kid outta that school alive." Sam spat the brutal truth at her, tired of everything and everyone. Dean wouldn't have the chance to sleep off this latest round of pain and Sam didn't know how much more he could take before crashing. Not caring that he upset her and more than willing to leave the Sheriff to deal with the scene he had just created, he went after Dean, ignoring the sobbing woman he'd just made hysterical. "Dean?"

"Don't." he warned. "Just don't." he was trying to deal with Sam deliberately upsetting the woman by saying her kids would most likely be killed. That wasn't Sam, he didn't do that and since when did Sam allude to the fact Dean was willing and able to punch a woman in the mouth? He hadn't realized how close to the edge Sam was and wondered how much of his recent decline was his fault.

"I just want to make sure…." he paused. "I picked up the prescription this morning, will you take it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really." he cracked a shy smile, unsure of Dean's mood. Dark shadows completely surrounded Dean's eyes, if he didn't know better, he'd say his brother was wearing eye-liner. He did grin at that, shrugging at Dean's questioning look. "The pharmacist was very knowledgeable, it'll help with the fever, you know since standing around outside in the cold and wet is sure to do you good."

"So," Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. "Can you go anywhere these days without pissing someone off? It's usually me…ain't like you to piss off women, not like that."

"You ok?'' Sam held his jacket and searched through the pockets. "Seriously Dean, this ain't the time…."

"Look….." he sat down. "Can we discuss this later? We have other things to worry about Sam….."

"Dean….." Sam set the bottle of pills on the table. "This situation isn't going to end well, he's holed up in a room with one window and a bunch of kids…..it's gonna hafta be a head shot….a kill shot…are you sure you can do that?"

"I can." Dean said firmly.

"That's not what I mean…you're in pain, you're running a fever, your knee's messed up, your eyes have yet to focus so I'm guessing you didn't completely sleep off the headache….you were bleeding before getting hit in the belly…."

"Sam…don't expect me to walk away, I can't do that…."

"And if you miss?" Sam uncapped the bottle and shook out one pill. "You've got maybe an hour, go lay down, I'll get you up when we're ready to head over to the school."

"We need to scout and find the best location….the weather could be a problem…"

Sam nodded, he knew. He knew he'd also go along with the plan that Dean would be the one to take the shot but he had every intention of being next to him every minute. If he had to, he'd do as he'd been trained…one shot, one kill, leave no enemy standing.

Dean toyed with the pill in the palm of his hand. He'd run from Bobby and the responsibilities Bobby had insisted were his. He'd wanted to spend a month watching movies, talking to the brother he'd gotten back after losing him for a year and half while he gave his body the rest it needed to heal.

Now here he was, a town in crisis, a room full of kids in danger, snowbound in a blizzard by a crazed psycho out for revenge with his brother's mental health on the line. He'd been so careful these last several months, keeping Sam safe by treading carefully around the hastily erected wall that was keeping him sane. Was all that about to come undone? Did he pit his brother's mental health against the well-being of a room full of kids? Sam had kicked the wall once with heart-stopping. results. What was this fucked-up situation doing to him? Dean would risk his own health to protect Sam but could he jeopardize innocent kids?

"Dean? Sofa's that way."

"Okay, ok, ok….." he popped the pill in his mouth and swallowed it with the water Sam handed him. "Leave the gun here while you go scout potential sites, okay?"

"I'll be back in an hour. Phones are still out, so gonna leave Steve here to keep an eye on you."

"He the kid with me when I woke up?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just putting names to faces…."

"So, soon as the road is cleared, what say we get the hell outta here? Well, soon as the car's fixed."

"Deal, but first we go back and get my car before we go anywhere else."

"Agreed. Now go lay down."

An hour or so later, Dean was grateful Sam wasn't with him when he woke up. Yup, there'd been damage from the blow to the belly with the baton. It'd taken over three hours for any symptoms to show up but here they were. He couldn't stand up straight, pain ripped through his belly as if being stabbed and he would know, he'd been stabbed before. Mother-mmmn, he struggled to his feet, snagged the bottle of Pepto someone had thoughtfully left for him and staggered to the bathroom, slamming the door in Steve's face.

Twenty minutes later he was on top of his discomfort and able to hide most of his symptoms from all observant eyes. He was pretty sure he'd even manage to fool Sam for a little while, for long enough anyway.

"Your brother said you could have either two Excedrin or as much Tylenol as you want." Steve ventured when Dean finally emerged from the bathroom.

"Great…so I get to choose between relieving a headache or bringing down a fever."

"Aah, are you asking? Cause Tylenol will do both, well aspirin might, I mean doesn't Excedrin have acetaminophen in it?"

"Yeah, and caffeine, but Tylenol doesn't do shit for my headaches…..so, I'll take the aspirin…..there a soda machine anywhere?"

"You're only allowed to have water."

"Son-ufa-bitch!" Dean muttered. "He'll never know…"

"Nuh-huh, dude, I saw him take Jerry down, there's no way I'm gonna get him mad at me."

"You didn't tell him I was sick earlier." Den pointed out.

Steve shrugged. "He didn't tell me to let him know if you were."

"Did he this time?"

"Uh, no, but dude, I gotta tell ya, you're stupid for keeping this shit from him."

"Kid, doesn't matter what I do, he knows everything anyway, so…he coming back or am I meeting him there?"

"He's coming back. I'm not supposed to allow you to leave, though I dunno how anyone expects me to keep you here if you want to leave."

"Relax. You got a younger brother?"

"Three of them."

"Yeah? Well, don't ever go letting them think they're in charge…mmmppffhh." he winced, hand pressing against his belly. He had an idea the pain had nothing to do with the ulcer, was more likely a deep internal contusion from the baton and wouldn't that just be great? For most people, aspirin, ice and staying off their feet would make it better, but this was Dean and what did you just want to bet, there was further damage? If he admitted as such to Sam, he would insist on seeing for himself and what good would that do? They were still snowed in with a broken down car. Well, no, Sam was both persistent and resourceful. If he wanted out-of-town, he'd find a way. Doubled over, he groped his way back to the sofa and sat down, using the blanket to wipe the sweat from his face.

"You don't look so good." Steve said uncertainly.

Dean just groaned in response, fighting the urge to lie down and curl up. He'd just decided to do so when his stomach heaved, forcing him to hold a hand over his mouth and lunge for the bathroom.

"Hey." the toilet flushed, a hand took hold of his elbow and pulled him to his feet. He went with the pull, but not willingly, not ready to get up. He turned around and sat on the toilet, doubling forward to rest his elbows on his knees. A cold, wet towel was laid across the back of his neck, and his head was pushed down when he tried to raise it. He wanted to pull away, push the hand aside that held his head down, but before he could, the fog of confusion in his head cleared and he knew that the only person who would dare get that close to him would be Sam. So instead of moving away, he found himself submitting to the gentle massage from the fingers rubbing along his neck.

God, he would never admit it, but he loved that soothing, comforting gesture. It'd been so rare in his life that he'd ever received it. His dad when he'd been a kid, Bobby a couple of times when he'd gotten older, Sam after Dean had retrieved him from school, always when he'd been hurt or sick, and later, Lisa…..when he was dealing with losing Sam…..

Dean sighed, remembering his earlier submission to Sam had caused him to later freak out, he eased away. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he took the cup of water being pressed into his hand and sat up. He held the cup for a moment and when he raised it to take a drink, his hand was shaking. Two Excedrin appeared in front of him and he took them without comment. He wondered if Steve had told Sam of his earlier decision or if Sam had just known which he would choose. He pulled the wet towel from his neck to wipe his face, and popped the aspirin in his mouth.

"Feel better?" Sam asked quietly, taking the opportunity to poke about the head wound, pleased to see it hadn't oozed any further blood, wasn't as swollen as before and Dean didn't flinch away from his probing finger. Unwritten Winchester rule, you sat and allowed examination an injury you couldn't see for yourself, period.

"Feel like shit." he muttered. "But….yeah." he did actually, his recent meal no longer a lump of unease in his belly causing it to burn and ache. "No more mayo." Steve handed Sam a bottle of caffeine-free coke, not venturing near enough to hand it to Dean.

"It's cold." Sam offered, opening the bottle and pouring some into the empty water cup when Dean nodded. "Just sit there for a bit, ok? Bottle's right here if you want more." Dean just nodded again, letting Sam leave without asking where he was going, content to sit where he was until Sam returned. Next thing he knew something round and cold was poking at his lips. "Dean." from the tone of Sam's voice, it was obvious he'd been calling Dean's name more than once.

"What?" he slapped Sam's hand away from his mouth. "What the hell is that?"

"Frozen ice flavored with powered soda, more commonly known to millions of kids everywhere as a Popsicle." Sam said wryly. "Open up."

"It's purple." Dean scowled as the offending ice cream treat poked again at his lips. "Knock it off!"

"It's grape." Sam explained as though he was talking to the two-year old Dean was of being. Poke, poke, poke. The purple ice rubbed across his lips and wiggled between them, nudging his teeth. "Come on." Sam coaxed. "Dean."

Dean saw no way out of avoiding the Popsicle and resignedly licked at it tentatively. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one and he didn't exactly want one now. He made a face at the taste, raising mournful eyes to his brother.

"If you insist on making me eat that, can I have an orange one?"

Sam cast a glance over at Steve who dug through the box he held in his hands and tossed another wrapped Popsicle at him. Sam caught it and popped the grape one in his own mouth as he unwrapped the orange one for Dean.

"Happy now?" he held it out but Dean made no move to take it. "What? You want me to hold it for you?" he teased.

"Screw you!" Dean scowled, snatching the Popsicle, wondering what had prompted Sam to give him one, to even think to give him one. "Of all the lame ass…."

"Have you eaten anything today?" Sam interrupted. "And kept it down? Didn't keep anything down yesterday either. I seem to recall an episode in a ditch on the side of the road."

"Enough with the fucking ditch already!" Dean snapped sarcastically.

He was so tired of that being held against him, as though it were being held up for comparison of everything else. So tired of always trying to juggle just what to reveal to Sam and how much. Tired of everything he did, being wrong. When he thought he was being considerate by allowing Sam to fuss, he was in fact freaking him out. When he accepted the comfort Sam offered, he upset Sam by doing so. When he did as Sam asked, Sam was overcome with concern and blind to all else. When he argued and resisted, Sam's feeling were hurt.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He damn well knew Sam would take the shot if he thought Dean wasn't steady enough. He didn't want to put that on his brother, but Sam would find a way to deal with it. He might have doubts about killing a man in what amounted to cold blood, but when the time came and Dean admitted or showed, he wasn't able, there was no doubt in his mind, Sam would act.

Dean gave himself a cocky grin; all one had to do to be convinced Sam would do whatever he had to in defense of his brother was go find this Jerry fellow and ask him how his face felt.

"Doubt you've had much to drink today either, doubt you kept the tea down. I wasn't with you when you woke up but the way you were fighting it before you fell asleep pretty much tells the tale and oh, that's right, you're running a fever, that's gotta be doing you a world of good. So, hey, here's a thought, how about you don't dehydrate on me?"

"Oh for Christ sake! I'm in no danger of becoming dehydrated Sam! For the love of God you find the stupidest shit to obsess over!"

"Huh, okay, let's see. Fever - check, vomiting - check, sweating - check, inability to keep liquids down - check, loss of blood - check, and oh that's right, strenuous walk in severe weather dressed in inadequate clothing while on medication and in pain, cause dude, you _limped_ all the way here, that's called exertion, now….."

A vision of Sam choking on his purple Popsicle made Dean feel better. He bet the little shit's face would turn as purple as his fucking Popsicle. Chuckling, he got up and walked back into the office, bottle of coke in one hand, Popsicle in the other. He wondered if Sam would have a cow if he asked for another, because damn, the Popsicle felt good. Yes, _felt _good. Maybe cherry this time, or raspberry, ooooh, yeah, raspberry. He'd never understood why raspberry Popsicle's were blue since raspberries are red. Who the hell had come up with that? What sense did it make? What about flavor-ice, god, he hadn't had any of those since he was, what ten, twelve? Anyway, was raspberry flavor-ice blue too or red?

"Deeeeee-nnnnneeeeeeeennnnnnn?"

He heard his name being called, drawn out and impatient and looked up to find Sam glaring down at him.

"So, what you got?" Dean asked. "We good to go?"

"He hasn't made any demands, hasn't made any contact, and hasn't released anyone. He hasn't answered the phone in the room, made any calls on it or responded to me talking to him over the megaphone. No further shots have been fired and best anyone can tell no one has been hurt." the Sheriff was standing next to Steve.

So, this was how Sam dealt with his brother nearly punching out an upset mother whose children were being held hostage by a suicidal manic capable of mass murder. He humored him with Popsicle's, enabled by his blasted deputy. He was so going to retire when this was all over.

"What does his silence tell you?" Dean asked. He wished he'd had some more time to sleep, but maybe Sam was right, because after three Popsicle's, over which Sam hadn't said boo, a bottle of coke and some more water, he was feeling better, no longer shaking and not feeling so weak. "What's he waiting for?"

"Five o'clock." Sam said grimly. "The Sheriff did send someone out on snowmobile to Great Falls but it's anyone's guess if help will get here in time. They will have to come by snowmobile. This freak really planned this well. The blizzard is in his favor, he plans on going out in a blaze glory."

"Why five o'clock?"

"It's the time he was fired."

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall, it was after four. Sam had left the motel around nine-thirty that morning, Dean had woken up and walked to town by eleven. He'd been unconscious for roughly fifteen minutes and slept on and off for over three hours. Another hour was spent while he and Sam had gone over the gun together then entertained the crowd with their argument outside on the sidewalk. And like that, the day was gone.

"We good to go?" Dean asked.

"Yup, just came back to get you, you have some time to scout the area, see if you like the site I picked out."

"Then grab the gun and let's go." he stood up and turned to the Sheriff. "We walk away, you never saw us, you don't know anything about us and if questioned, you have no idea what happened to the rifle. All you know is some unknown stranger was a good Samaritan."

The sheriff nodded and the brothers walked out.

4:55 p.m. Snowing hard, wind blowing, visibility impaired, two brothers, one physically ill, one mentally unstable, a sniper rifle on the floor between them.

"You got this?"

"Yeah."

Neither moved.

"Gotta be now."

A knowing sigh and the gun was shouldered. Silence between them, target in sight and a hand offered to take the gun from his brother.

"I'm ok." the scope sited in and at 4:59 p.m., a shot, the target eliminated. A walki-talki crackled and the Sheriff's voice came through, all kids accounted for and unharmed.

The gun was dismantled and placed in its case. It would be going with them, payment for a job well done.

"Hey Sam?" Dean blinked then frowned; two Sam's swirled and rushed at him. "I gotta tell you, this was the worse vacation ever."

Sam turned to face his brother who sounded out of breath, voice faint and shaky. Next thing he knew he was sitting on the floor, Dean's dead weight sprawled across his lap.

"Great." Sam sighed. "You'd pick now to pass out, wouldn't you?" he dumped Dean to the floor and gathered his heels under his butt to stand up. Had he expected him to pass out, he would have been better prepared to catch him and would have been able to keep his feet. "Ok, tough guy, let's get you outta here."

Dean's fingers curled around the loose denim near Sam's ankle; grip tight enough to tug when Sam tried to pull away. Sam balanced on his toes and peered down at this brother who was so pale, he could easily count the freckles that peppered his cheeks. Again, Dean's actions spoke for him, his need to remain close to Sam even while unconscious enough to keep Sam calm.

"Oh, I dunno Dean." Sam murmured softly, feeling for a pulse, palming his brother's sweaty forehead. Dean accepted the touch and while Sam wasn't happy that Dean was sick, he wasn't all that upset about it. If illness was what it took for Dean to let him get close, Sam wasn't above taking advantage of his vulnerability and weakness. "I gotta say, it's been our best one."

***END***


End file.
